Loving Flashback (Liebende Rückblende)
by SEGAMew
Summary: The Boys are working on The Holocaust for a 4th grade project. It would be an almost normal day in South Park if not for Cartman trying to induce a flashback to avoid researching. Kyle is sucked in too. Cartman is an SS & Kyle a prisoner, how will they survive Auschwitz 1944? Kyman yaoi torture abuse violence lime lots of adult situations because it's historically almost accurate
1. Chapter 1 - Lebenden Rückblende

**Liebend****e ****Rückblende**

**By SEGAMew**

* * *

**Disclaimer: **

South Park and all related characters are property of Trey Parker and Matt Stone, because they are geniuses and I'm not.

Any historical persons that appear in this work of fiction are loosely based of their real life counterpart and possibly portrayed poorly. Reader discretion is advised.

There is no plans to include any OCs/FCs in this fanfiction. So don't worry if you're anti OC/FC. If there are to be any OC/FC, they will be only background characters with probably a few unmemorable lines.

* * *

**Synopsis:**

Stan, Kyle, Cartman, Kenny, along with the rest of Mr. Garrison's fourth grade class, are assigned to work on a history project. The Boys (thanks to Cartman) are to work on the subject of The Holocaust. What starts as an almost normal day at South Park turns (expectantly) for the worst when Cartman tries to once again induce a flashback to get out of actually researching The Holocaust. To make things worst, an accident happens and Kyle gets transported as well to Auschwitz II- Birkenau 1944.

* * *

**Pairings**: Kyman (Kyle x Cartman) and others that will be revealed in later chapters (absolutely no fan pairings)

**Warnings**: M for harsh language and horrendous gratuitous acts of violence. No lemon/smut/stuff like that because I'm horrible at writing such things. There will be mild lime and adult situations however. I mean come on, it's a South Park fanfic!

* * *

**Chapter 1: Lebenden Rückblende (Living Flashback)**

* * *

**Location: South Park Elementary - 4****th**** Grade Classroom**

_**Herbert Garrison's POV**_

"Okay, children, let's take our seats. We're going to be doing something constructive this time so listen up."

I wait for the kids to settle down and shut up before continuing with what I have planned for them today. If things go well, it'll preoccupy them long enough for me to catch up on my novel writing. It has been a long time since I published my first best selling piece. My adoring fans sent me lots of fan mail and practically begged me to write the sequel to 'The Valley of Penises.' Unfortunately, I haven't had the time to consider writing another novel. The last novel I wrote was because I was on leave. I'm not sure I can juggle teaching and the life of a novelist. The little bastards keep me so busy, I plan out my lessons plans barely two hours ahead of time! The kids finally settled down.

"Children, I'm going to assign a group project to you all. It's suppose to take forever to complete so I like all of you to get into groups of four. Since there's twenty-four of you little bastards, I expect Butters to not be left out again. Now go on, get into groups and I'll tell you what's coming next."

The students got up from their desks and moved them to make formations of four. As they're doing that, I rested my chin on the palm of my hand, brainstorming of what my next grand novel is to be about...

"No, Butters! We already have a group of four, go join up with Malkinson or somethin'!"

"O-oh... But he's not in our class, Eric..."

"My suggestion still stands."

Not again, why must I be cursed to have one of the unpopular kids in my class. It's such a hassle to keep babysitting a bunch of ten year olds. Who am I, Mary Fucking Poppins?! Whatever, it looks like I have to step in once again. I scanned the classroom to locate an incomplete group of three. I know no one is absent today when I took attendance this morning. Off to the side behind the annoying girl power group lead by Wendy, I spotted the group. I opened my mouth to call them, but realized that with this particular group of three, I don't really know their names. Most of the time it doesn't feel like they're in my class. It's really strange you know? There's constantly twenty-four students but sometimes, different students appear in the place of others and my attendance sheet reflects this change. Strange as hell indeed but this is South Park after all. I took out a pile of note cards with must know information about my class. According to my notes, I labeled them as two foreigners and a prop. Reading further I divulge their names to be Gregory, Christophe, and... DogPoo? God with a name like that, his parents must really be high off of some serious shit... Literally. I put my notes away and called out to the least anti-social looking of the bunch.

"Gregory, would you let Butters into your group before he gets grounded again?"

Gregory faced me upon being called. He nodded, then glanced over to Butters and waved him over. Finally, now I can explain the group project. The sooner I get this done the sooner I can pursue my upcoming novel that's bound to be brilliant.

"All right now that the hard part is over, next we'll be picking topics. Once you pick your topics, you'll tell me what it is and I'll tell you if you can do it or not. The topic you must pick is to be any historical event. Nothing retarded like your birthday," I glared at Eric, "it has to be something that made an impact on at least more than ten people. Something like Columbine. Once you got your topic, you are to make a dumb little project about it. It can be a gay little skit, a boring report, or heaven forbid, a power point. You have ten minutes to discuss amongst yourselves."

Leaving the little demons to their own devices, I took a nap. I need to rest my brain in preparation for all the incoming retarded topics that Eric Cartman is sure to plow me with.

_**Cartman's POV**_

Ugh, lame! Fuck Mr. Garrison and fuck this project! If I have to suffer through this, we might as well work with one of my many favorite moments in American history.

"Guys, two words; Holocaust."

"No way, fatass, we're not doing THAT topic!"

Of course, the one Jew in the entire school has to disagree with my sweet topic, and he's in my fucking group! What are the odds of that?! Fucking Christ! I slammed my hands down on my desk and shot him a look of absolute authoritah.

"Yes, we are, Kahl!"

"No, we are not! Plus, you're not the boss of this group! Stan and Kenny have a say in this too."

I turned to Stan and Kenny. They may be losers but I like them better than that Jewrat. Surely they will agree with my choice topic.

"Stan, Kinny, you wanna do the Holocaust, right?"

The hippie glanced at the Jew.

"Actually, I'm with Kyle on this. If he doesn't feel comfortable with the topic of the Holocaust, we shouldn't do it."

"Mmmpph," Kenny nods.

"Ugh, you guys are such fags," I rolled my eyes and crossed my arms, "Fine! What topic, that is totally not sweeter than mine, are we gonna do?"

Kyle is the first to make a suggestion. God dammit I hate him.

"I think the Attack on Pearl Harbor is a good topic."

Of course the pussy ass hippie agrees.

"Yeah, there's a lot of information on that, This should be easy!"

"Mmmph, mmppmphh ffmppf mpph?"

I rolled my eyes, "Why would there be bright flashing lights at Pearl Harbor? God you're so stupid and poor, Kinny!"

So my lame friends decided on Pearl Harbor. What a lame topic. Who the fuck cares about stupid Japs crashing into ships and shit? They should've bought GPSs like the rest of the world and not be stupid and poor like Kenny! My topic is waaaaaaaay better. Who wouldn't want to learn about the totally cool Adolf Hitler? _Heil Hitler!_ If there's someone more awesomer and cooler than Mel Gibson (who pretty much defines awesome and cool for the people of my generation), it's definitely Adolf Hitler. If he was alive today, I would crawl to my knees and kiss his boots. And if I was a dog, I would probably hump his leg too. I wouldn't be a shitty little chihuahua either, I would be a fucking German Shepard. I snapped out of my fantasy to the annoying high pitched voice of the stupid Jewfag.

"No way, you're doing The Attack on Pearl Harbor too, Craig?"

"Yup."

"Couldn't you pick something else? There's no way Mr. Garrison would let us do the same topic!"

Craig flipped Kyle off. Ha, he deserved it!

"Nope. Pick something else."

Kyle turned away from Craig and back to facing us. Well actually more like facing me... No glaring at me. I was about to open my mouth but he has the balls to interrupt me.

"No, Cartman. We're not -"

"_Yaaaawn_... All right, children, time's up! Let's go over your chosen topics now..."

The Jew was interrupted by Mr. Garrison. Ha! Karma's a bitch, isn't it, Kyle?!

_**Herbert Garrison's POV**_

I awoken from my nap. That is just what I needed, a quick power nap. I stayed up late last night chatting it up with my online acquaintances on Skype. I stretched my arms and yawned into my hand before addressing the class.

"All right, children, time's up! Let's go over your chosen topics now..."

I stood up and picked up a piece of chalk and wrote on the board. I called out the names of each student whom I mentally note as the most dominant of the group.

"Craig who are in your group? And your topic, please." I prepare to write as he speaks.

"The Attack on Pearl Harbor. Me, Clyde, Tweek, Token."

"Alright, good topic..." I looked back eyeing the next kid, "Jimmy?"

"Me, Timmy, Jason, and Peter... And we're doing the Great De... The Great DeeeEeeh... The Great Deeaaeh... The Gr-"

"The Great Depression, got it. Good choice, Jimmy," I finished up for him, writing on the board. I should have picked on Timmy or something. I focused on the next group.

"Kevin."

"Me, Bradley, Heidi, and Esther. We're doing Roswell!"

I placed a hand on my forehand and my other hand on my hip, "God dammit Kevin, this is a history project, not a geography one!"

"B-but... Roswell really happened, I seen the evidence on the internet!"

Esther piped up, "Mr. Garrison, what Kevin meant to say is that we're doing the Roswell UFO Incident."

I blinked, then cleared my throat as I wrote that down, "Oh yes, that certainly qualifies. Good, Esther! Now who's left? How about... Wendy?"

"Me, Bebe, Red, and Annie. Our topic is The Sinking of the RMS Titanic."

"Boo Wendy Testaburger booooo!"

I snapped back towards the owner of that incredibly annoying voice.

"Eric, since you love running your goddamn mouth in class everyday, why don't you tell me who is in your group and your subject?!"

Eric oddly enough smiled even though I was yelling at him. He is one psychotic kid. I noticed he gave Kyle a look I couldn't begin to describe, then spoke.

"Well, Mr. Garrison... Mah group has me, Stan, Kinny, and the Jewrat... And we're doing The Holocaust."

Kyle whined. He always seems to have something to say against the fat antisemitic bastard.

"Mr. Garrison, can we please not do the Holocaust? Cartman is just going to rub it in my face that we are doing his topic."

"Oh please, Kahl, would I do something soooo immature like that?"

"Yes, as a matter of fact you did lots of times, fatass!"

"Mr. Garrison, I think it's important for young Kahl here to embrace subject matters that makes him uncomfortable. As a teacher, you should know that this is one of the many ways students grow and prosper. Don't you wanna be a teacher with a classroom full of prospering children?"

To be honest I don't really care enough to entertain one of Eric's mind games. I want to get to writing the sequel of 'The Valley of Penises' as soon as possible! I wrote out Holocaust for Eric's group and moved on to the rest of the class.

**Location: Kyle's Room**

_**Kyle's POV**_

I can't believe Mr. Garrison let Cartman talk him into signing us up for The Holocaust! The event in recent World History that is regarded as the most horrific time period ever! I normally wouldn't mind researching the actual topic if the entire class had to do it or something, but this is Cartman's chosen topic! He's just going to make me do all the work, then rip on me not just for being Jewish, but also being inferior compared to the rest of the European races (I know Judaism isn't a race, he seems to think it is). Arg he's so annoying, it wouldn't surprised me if he's the fucking reincarnation of that psychotic German Nazi Leader himself!

I gritted my teeth as I click through various sites and jotting down key notes. Reading on this subject is sickening to my stomach. This one man, human like the rest of us, is capable of so much evil. I will never understand Cartman's constant worshiping of Hitler. Then again he's probably as insane as he is. He did dressed up as Hitler that one time for Halloween.

"So like, we should totally do a skit where I'm Hitler and I'm killin' Kahl. Or maybe I can be one of those Nazi soldiers who push Kahl into like, a room and I fart in a tube leading to the room and he dies. Or maybe better, we can make a German Scheisse video where I take a huge shit on -"

I slammed my pen down, spun around my chair, and glared at the tub of lard.

"Fuck you! We're NOT doing a skit where you are degrading me in any way!"

"But Kaaaaahl it has to be historically acuraaaaate."

I fucking hate his damn begging voice. It gets on my nerves so much! Why do all the adults fall for his ruse? I crossed my arms, continuing to glare.

"There's nothing historically accurate about fucking Nazis taking a dump on my people!"

"Kahl, you know as well as I do that's what happened! The super awesome Nazi gathered up all the useless people and took a huge fuckin' shit on all of them! Good riddance to them too, World War five or something is sure to happen if they were allowed to live."

Before I knew it, my fist connected with Cartman's fat antisemitic face. Hard. Oh that felt so fucking good. It felt so fucking good that I did it again, but to the other side of his face. He lied there bawling like the big fat baby he is. Kenny is on my bed laughing while Stan stood there looking shocked.

"Dude... I think you gave him a black eye!"

I grinned, "Really? Sweet."

Cartman crawled back to his feet, still sniffing and rubbing his eyes, "F-fuck you, Kahl! I'm gunna tell on yeeeew!"

He ran out of my room and presumably downstairs. Is he seriously going to phone his mom and tell on me? Whatever, that asshole deserved more than two punches to his face. I walked back to my desk and sat back down, resuming where I left off in my research.

_**Cartman's POV**_

THAT GODDAMN NO GOOD FUCKING JEWRAT PUNCHED ME.

I HOPE HE GOES TO FUCKING JEW HELL.

I stood on the stool in the bathroom and washed my face. Ugh... Fuck. My face fucking hurts like fuck. Arg FUCK. I jumped off the stool and angrily kicked it. Oh how I wish the stool was Kyle's Jew nuts. I exited the bathroom, made my way downstairs, and plopped myself on the couch. I don't want to go back and face Kyle just yet. I need to plot my revenge and carry it out when Kyle will least suspect it. Those are the sweetest types of revenge after all, when your enemy least suspects it. I will have to carry it out after the project is finished though. The stupid Jew does most of the work so I rather not screw myself over and get held back in the fourth grade with fucking Mr. Garrison again.

Ay, why does the Jew have to do most of the work anyway?! I'm the authoritah in the subject of The Holocaust! Though knowing that Jew, he wants everything to be historically accurate, even though we both know what I say is fact. The Nazi took a gigantic dump on the Jews, hippies and the Mexicans all those centuries ago! There has to be some way to show him... Oh yeah I can do that one thing I did last time during that gay Hippie vs Rednecks protest. I flashbacked back into like, the medieval times and avoided reading boring ass textbooks. And I saved the day. That was the day where I beat Kyle at his game. His defeat tasted so delicious on my tongue...

But I shorted out my TV OH! the last time I flashbacked and my poor as hell Mom hasn't gotten around to buying a new one. I looked on top of Kyle's living room TV and saw that he has a TV OH!. Sweet, this could work. I got up and started loading it up with every program that talks about the Holocaust and Hitler. I'll show Kyle. I'll flash back, then tape everything that happened on my iPhone, and rub it into that Jewfag's face!

_**Stan's POV**_

Kyle and I are at his computer reading a few Wikipedia articles together. Judging from the way Kenny is laughing at his laptop, he's probably watching porn. Anyway, I thought Pearl Harbor has a ton of info, but the Holocaust feels like it has a ton more. Though I guess that makes sense, a lot of people are affected by the Holocaust, and some are still alive today. Between Pearl Harbor and the Americans nuking Japan, the survivors are probably turned mutant from soaking up all that radioactivity. Between the Holocaust and Pearl Harbor, I don't really have a preference one way or another for the history project. I just didn't want my super best friend to feel pressured into doing something he doesn't want to. I gotta back him up and stuff, especially against Cartman. Not that Kyle really needs me to back him up, he slugged that fatass good!

I saw Kyle really getting into working on the project. I saw him writing pages and pages of notes. I'm really not good at that kind of stuff, I just read it all on Wikipedia and hope I remember it later. A question formed in my head.

"Hey, dude? Are we doing a skit or...?"

Kyle still glanced up towards his computer then back down to his notes scribbling away.

"I'm thinking a Power Point. That way Cartman can't degrade me in a stupid skit."

"Oh... A Power Point..." Yeah I hate Power Points, they're so boring to work on and even more boring to present, "What if... We come up with a skit idea that doesn't degrade anyone?"

Kyle sighed, putting down his pen and rubbing his face, "Stan, Cartman is right. The Nazi took a huge gigantic shit on my people. That's pretty much the Holocaust in a nutshell."

I thought a bit, "But... Maybe we can do the part where everyone gets freed or something? Like I dunno, maybe a moment in that time where it's victory for the Jews?"

"What kind of victory is it when so many people died?!"

I flinched, Kyle usually doesn't raise his voice directly at me. Kyle's face soften and glanced sideways nervously, "Hey, sorry dude. I guess this is a touchy subject for me."

I pat Kyle on his back, smiling, "It's okay. I understand. If you wanna do a power point, we can! Though we might want to do something sweet alongside it so everyone doesn't fall asleep or something."

Kyle nodded, smiling back, "Wanna order some pizza and soda? I've been concentrating so hard that I didn't noticed how hungry I am!"

"Hell yeah!" then I remembered, "Hey, where's Cartman anyway? It's been like an hour."

"Fuck if I know, I'm not his keeper. C'mon, let's head downstairs and order the pizza. We can hook up my Xbox and play some Watch Dogs."

"Watch Dogs? Sick dude!"

We all went downstairs. I was shocked to see a small kiddy pool full of water in the living room. This wasn't here before. I then noticed Cartman recording shows on Kyle's TV OH!. Kyle of course, demands to know what he thinks he's doing.

"Dude, what the hell are you doing, and why the fuck is there a damn pool in my living room?!"

Cartman tugs on the TV OH!, as if trying extend it past where it sat and towards the pool.

"What does it fuckin' look like, Kahl?! I'm gonna flashback mahself back into the Holocaust, take an iPhone video of the Nazi shittin' all over your people, then rub it in your Jew face! Then, I will collect my A+ from Mr. Garrison."

I pinched the bridge of my nose in exasperation. He's going to do THAT again? And how the hell is he going to bring his iPhone into his crazy coma flashback dream? What a freaking retard.

"Now if you excuse meh, I'm gonna forward to the past!"

Cartman was about to drop the still on TV OH! into the pool ,with him standing in it, when Kyle jumped in and tried to yank it out of his hands.

"Fatass, I don't give a shit if you destroyed your TV OH!, but don't you dare think about doing the same to my family's! I'll never hear the end of it from my Mom!"

"Whatever! She's a big fat bitch so she'll end you either way, kike!"

"Don't you fucking call me that you racist sack of shit!"

While my two ever feuding friends are having a power struggle in the kiddy pool, Kenny returned from the kitchen. Returned? When did he leave?

"Mmphph mffpmh mpf."

I smiled, temporarily taking my attention off of my two friends, "Oh, you order the pizza and drinks already?"

"Mphhhh mph!"

Cartman stopped arguing with Kyle, "Pizza? Fucking kickass!"

I turned to face Cartman to affirm that the pizza has been ordered when I noticed Cartman, in a lapse of judgment and inability to contain his emotions when it comes to food, let go of the TV OH!. To my horror, this caused Kyle to become unbalanced and fell over into the pool while still holding onto the TV OH!. A blinding surge of electricity shot out everywhere and I had to shield my eyes. The brightness soon ceased and I uncovered my face. I saw Kenny by the TV holding the power cord for the TV OH!. Quick thinking, Kenny! I looked back to the pool and saw both Kyle and Cartman out cold.

"Aw awwwww! Not again!"

* * *

**Notes from SEGAMew_**

Well, how you like that? :) Probably a bit boring but it is expected. It's the first chapter! Next chapter might be a little slow as well as it serves to establish the setting of Auschwitz (specifically Auschwitz II, most famous of the extermination/labor camps).

This is my first South Park fanfic, but not my first fanfic overall. But you know, the last time I wrong fanfics actively was back in the late 90's. I was writing in script format and that wasn't allowed on :( In any case they were immature Sonic stories hehe...

Comments, constructive criticism, reviews, whatever is appreciated! Kyman is the obvious pairing that is to happen eventually (if you read the stuff at the very top of this text document, you would have figured that out). I definitely have in mind at least one other pairing that will happen eventually in the story. Can you guess who? :)

**Translation Notes_**

_Heil Hitler! -_ Hail Hitler! Back when Hitler is pretty much the most popular man in all of Nazi Germany/Third Reich, people would proudly perform the Nazi salute and hail him out of respect.

_Scheisse _- German for Shit. This is a reference to the online video the boys watched in Bigger, Longer, and Uncut/


	2. Chapter 2 - Ankunft

**Liebend****e ****Rückblende**

**By SEGAMew**

* * *

**Disclaimer: **

South Park and all related characters are property of Trey Parker and Matt Stone, because they are geniuses and I'm not.

Any historical persons that appear in this work of fiction are loosely based of their real life counterpart and possibly portrayed poorly. Reader discretion is advised.

There is no plans to include any OCs/FCs in this fanfiction. So don't worry if you're anti OC/FC. If there are to be any OC/FC, they will be only background characters with probably a few unmemorable lines.

* * *

**Synopsis:**

Stan, Kyle, Cartman, Kenny, along with the rest of Mr. Garrison's fourth grade class, are assigned to work on a history project. The Boys (thanks to Cartman) are to work on the subject of The Holocaust. What starts as an almost normal day at South Park turns (expectantly) for the worst when Cartman tries to once again induce a flashback to get out of actually researching The Holocaust. To make things worst, an accident happens and Kyle gets transported as well to Auschwitz II- Birkenau 1944.

**Pairings**: Kyman (Kyle x Cartman) and others that will be revealed in later chapters (absolutely no fan pairings)

**Warnings**: M for harsh language and horrendous gratuitous acts of violence. No lemon/smut/stuff like that because I'm horrible at writing such things. There will be mild lime and adult situations however. I mean come on, it's a South Park fanfic!

* * *

**Chapter 2: Ankunft (Arrival)**

* * *

**Location: Hell's Pass Hospital**

_**Stan's POV**_

There are two things I hate; hospitals and missing recess. Luckily, I'm not a patient. But unfortunately, my super best friend in the entire world is. I sat by his side with my head in my arms on top of his bed. God, can you hear me? Please revive Kyle so I don't have to work on this project alone. I mean Kenny is great and all but he is not exactly the type to give a crap about school work if you know what I mean. I lifted my head from my arms and sighed. I reached over to my backpack and pulled out my iPhone. I pulled up Flappy Birds and proceeded to pass the time. After killing a few birds, Dr. Doctor entered. I didn't look away from the screen as he spoke.

"Stanley, you shouldn't be using your phone in this side of the hospital."

I replied indifferently as I repeatedly tapped the screen, "Airplane mode."

"Ah..."

The doctor monitored Cartman and Kyle's vitals. I didn't pay much attention to him, I trust him enough to know what he's doing. He approached me after about five minutes of doing who knows what.

"Stanley, to my understanding, you are Kyle's best friend, correct?"

I glanced up briefly before looking back down to my iPhone, "_Super _best friend, actually. Why, Doctor?"

The doctor handed me a clipboard with a few pages of documents. I put my iPhone away and skimmed the pages. The first page reads "EMERGENCY MEDICAL SERVICES PREHOSPITAL DO NOT RESUSCITATE (DNR) FORM" at the top. For some reason this reminded me of something that happened a while ago to a friend of mine. Who was that friend, I wonder? Anyway, I handed the clipboard back without signing anything.

"I can't sign this, Kyle is going to live and you're supposed to make sure he does!"

Then I remembered Cartman.

"Kenny, did he signed?"

The doctor shook his head, "Actually Kenny revoked his best friend status with Eric. Something about a NASCAR dispute. As it turns out, his best friend is now his mother and she elected not to sign the form."

"Oh..." Honestly I'm not sure if I should feel disappointed or relieved.

The doctor handed me a different clipboard. This one has a lot more pages. I tried to read it but a lot of the information flew over my head. The last thing I want to do is agreeing to something without reading what it is I'm agreeing to. I looked up.

"Um... Could you possibly tell me what all this means in plain English?"

"Certainly, it's actually a consent form for allowing us to perform an experiment on your friends."

I went wide-eyed, "E-experiment?! Like Frankenstein?!"

He laughed. I angrily clenched my fists.

"Hey, what's so funny?!"

"Haha... Sorry. Actually it's nothing like Frankenstein. Do you remember Dr. Chinstrap and Dr. Pinkerton?"

"Um... Oh yeah they cured my hoarding kinda sorta."

"Well, they're actually developing some new dream analysis equipment. Its primary use is to dive deep into the hearts of those afflicted with hoarding, identify the cause, and cure them."

"That's what their job is supposed to be, not some freaky machines."

"Furthermore, this new device can be used for a variety of different things, not just hoarding. It's a special monitor that can be hooked up to one person or more and it displays what they're dreaming about."

My interest raised a little, "So... You're saying that I can watch what Kyle is dreaming about right now?"

He nodded, "That's correct, Stanley. In the case of multiple people hooked up to the same monitor, it actually takes in all the dreams, condenses, and shows them in an almost reality TV show like presentation. Oh, but of course for the reality TV show simulation bit to kick in, one of the sleepers has to have a dream so intense, it sucks the other person or persons in."

"Wow, sweet!"

"It is quite the interesting machine. As I said before however, it is an experimental machine. We actually used it on a few of our patients before, but we found it works the best on comatose patients. They sleep longer so they have longer uninterrupted dreams theoretically. More data can be extracted too."

"Okay, Doc, where do I sign?"

The doctor pointed the lines I have to sign and I scribbled my signature in. This is great! If Cartman actually flashbacks to the Holocaust, maybe I can tape it, put it on a DVD, and use that for the history project. As long as it's entertaining, Garrison won't care if it's historically accurate or not. Not like he knows anything about history. He didn't believe Uncle Jimbo and his Vietnam War stories.

**Location: Oświęcim, Poland. Late June 1944**

_**Kyle's POV**_

Uuugh... Did anyone catch the number of the train that hit me? Wait, train? No, I was in my living room with...

Wait, what's that noise? I feel like I'm moving too... Dude, why do I feel so tired? I also seem to be sitting and leaning against something... someone? Slowly, I opened my eyes and blinked a few times. I looked around and almost freaked out to find myself actually in a train with a ton of other people. Judging from their expressions, this is no leisure trip either. They look so lost, scared, and confused. It smells really shitty in here too. Looking at myself, I'm wearing a large dark orange coat and thick green scarf. I raised a hand to my head and noticed that I'm _not_ wearing my green ushanka. That's practically my security blanket! I frantically looked around for it when to my left, I saw who I was leaning against earlier. I did a double take. No way...

"M-Mom?"

She turned my way. Wow, she looks exactly like my Mom, but slightly different. She's not wearing any of her make-up and her vibrant red hair (that I unfortunately inherit most of), is more of a maroon. She's not wearing her usual blouse and skirt either, but something more suited for colder climates. A large wool coat and a shawl draped over her shoulders and back. She stroked my face tenderly, wearing a tired smile.

"What is it, _bubala_?"

She sounds just like her too. Though it's lacking that Jersey accent.

"Um..."

I absentmindedly rubbed the back of my head, feeling my large Jewfro. I'm not sure if I should ask about my ushanka as originally planned. I'm curious about this train ride however...

"Where are we heading?"

She continued to stroke my face as she answered, "I'm unsure, but perhaps somewhere... Some place where we can live without the fear of discrimination..."

"Ezekial awake, Mama?"

I turned my attention to the familiar voice. There hiding under 'Mom's' coat was a five-year old who looks like my little brother, Ike! Well actually this Ike doesn't have the beady eyes of Canadians, but normal eyes like mine. He still looks like a football though. These traits remind me of Danish people...

Then I remembered, he called me 'Ezekiel'.

What the fuck is going on?

I dread asking the next question.

"Hey um... Mom? What year is it?"

"You've only been asleep for a couple hours. It's still the year of 1944."

The color drained from my face. I guess my 'Mom' noticed and pulled me closer to her, adjusting my scarf. She spoke to me as she does.

"_Bubbe_, are you feeling okay? I know it's been a while since you got your last diabetes injection, but please wait a bit longer."

Well that explains why I feel tired as fuck. I rubbed my face with my hands, grumbling. I felt someone tug my hair. It was the Ike look-a-like-but-not-quite.

"Ezekiel okay?"

I didn't reply. A sharp tug of my hair followed by mild pain caused me to yelp. My 'Mom' swatted Ike's hand away from my hair.

"Isaiah Bartkiewicz! What have I told you about pulling on your brother's hair?"

"No no, Mama..."

Ugh, Isaiah? Ezekiel? Are my flashback parents ultra religious or something? Speaking of, where is my 'Dad'? Wait, why do I care? I have to wake up from this nightmare that fatass dragged me into! I did the first thing that comes to mind.

"Ow!"

Okay... Pinching myself doesn't work. Well fuck. Sighing, I placed my head on my 'Mom's' lap and closed my eyes. I hate to say it, but I have to find Cartman and ask him for help on how to get out of this hellhole. My 'Mom' stroked my head and body. I relaxed under her touch, so much that I almost fell asleep. Even though she's just a Flashback Mom, I can't but feel this deep connection with her, almost like...

.

..

...

"Ezekiel, sweetie... Please wake up."

She rubbed my back to rouse me awake. I pushed myself off of her lap while I rubbed the sand out of my eyes. I tiredly gazed up towards my 'Mom'.

"Hmm... Mom?"

Then I saw him sitting close to 'Mom'. He must be my Flashback Dad! Damn he looks like shit. His usual neatly maintained beard is all shaggy. In addition to that, he looks exhausted and has a black eye. Did he get into a fight? Outside the courtroom, the only other time I seen him in a physical confrontation was with Kenny. He's not exactly what you would consider a street fighter. He reached over and ran his hand through my Jewish red curls.

"Son, how are you feeling?"

"I'm... I'm fine," actually I still feel like shit, and not because I'm stuck in a 1944 flashback.

He smiled and nodded, "Good... Ezekiel, I believe something big will happen to us soon. I can't say if it'll be good or bad... But in case I'm no longer around, please look after your mother and brother."

I looked at him, taking in the words he said. Take care of 'Mom' and 'Ike'? I wanted to scoff. If the history books are accurate, my Dad would have a better chance of not being exterminated than us as soon as we step off the train. Suddenly, I felt sad. Why though? My 'Mom' spoke.

"Gerald, please. You're not leaving me alone to raise our children!"

Well, at least one thing is the same.

"If I have any choice, I would stay with my family until the end of time, Sheila!"

"W-what are you saying?"

"I... I heard stories, from my colleagues. Never you mind, _ahuvati_."

My 'parents' looked at each other, and 'Mom' backed off. It's almost like they both understand something. I dunno. 'Dad' rummaged through his bag and pulled out... No way, my ushanka! He motioned me to come closer, which I did almost eagerly. As he placed it on my head and adjusted it, he spoke.

"I originally planned to give this to you this Hanukkah... But I think now is a good time. It's cold year round in Poland," he paused and backed me up a little, taking in the sight of me wearing my (trademarked) green ushanka, "It looks good on you. It's been in the family for three generations. It belonged to me, my father, and my father's father, and now, it belongs to you."

My 'Mom' gave me a kiss on the cheek, "Oh, my _bubala _is all grown up! I was afraid your Father's ushanka won't fit you... But your proud fiery hair of our people made it so!"

I cringed upon hearing the words 'proud fiery hair.' I reached up and felt one of the dog-ear flaps of my ushanka. It feels just like my original ushanka. For something that has been with my Flashback Dad's family for three generations, it didn't appear to be worn a lot. Then again, only I, Kyle Broflovski, can make a bright green ushanka look good! Though... I guess it's Ezekiel Bartkiewicz now. I looked up and smiled at my Dad.

"Thanks, Dad. I like it a lot."

Before he could reply, the train came to an erupt stop. The side doors opened and I heard loud obnoxious Germans giving instructions to the passengers to disembark. 'Mom' got up onto her feet, holding Flashback Ike in her arm. 'Dad' reached down and held my hand, leading me towards the train's exit. I looked down, damn it's nearly five feet to the ground! My 'Dad' let go of my hand and jumped down first. He helped 'Mom' down, then lastly carried my down.

I gasped at the sight. It looks like something right out of the photos on Wikipedia, except in color! My surprise quickly turned into nervousness. At the gate, there was a metal sign saying '_Arbeit macht frei_', whatever that means. Beyond that, there are large lines forming full of people from the train and the Nazis are barking orders at everyone. If I recall from my research, these are the Schutzstaffel, shorthanded to SS. They're kinda like Hitler's military or something. People in white coats (I guess they are part of the SS as well since they're wearing similar boots as them) inspected everyone and directed them into another line. I know we're gonna go to left line, that's where all the sick, elderly, women, and children are lined.

"Ezekiel."

It took me a few seconds to remember that I'm 'Ezekiel'. I looked up at my Dad.

"A Bartkiewicz always fights. Even when we get knocked down, we find the strength inside to spring right back. Even if you find yourself on the edge death, never give up. You must live, Ezekiel."

For some reason, those works invoked a memory I had when I was in the Pentagon that one time. It wasn't a very pleasant memory so I shooed it away. After clearing my head, I noticed I was gripping 'Dad's' hand very tightly. Was I scared? I mean, this is just a flashback! Just a stupid dream that I can't seem to wake up from! Nothing will happen to me for real if I die here... Right? Arg, it's NOT the same as being killed by an imaginary being!

Shit, I must be losing my damn mind...

While in line to be inspected by the SS doctors, I distracted myself from my runaway thoughts and looked around the crowd of people. If I'm here, then Cartman is here too, he has to be! But my search came up futile. There was way too many people, so much that it would be difficult to find someone even as fat as racist jerk.

Giving up my search for Cartman, I watched the SS doctors instead. Out of them, two caught my attention. One looked pretty young, or maybe took care of himself healthwise. But he doesn't look older than like thirty-five. His coat and uniform underneath are very clean and pressed as if he just picked them up from the dry cleaners or something. His books are super shiny and stuff too. He looks pretty cheerful, freaky. He's actually whistling as he walked from line to line, directing people to their doom or a delayed doom. And that smile he's wearing... Something doesn't feel right about this guy.

Another SS doctor that stood out to me stood away from the crowd. He wasn't inspecting anyone. I don't think he looks uninterested in doing that job, he actually looks kinda sad? Anyway, like the other guy, he seems pretty young. Unlike the other guy though who was very clean shaven, he has a mustache.

Our turn came to be examined. An SS doctor told me to open my mouth, which I did. Then told me to close it as soon as he told me to open it. He didn't even look at me! He turned his attention to my 'Mom'.

"Does your older boy here have any health issues or disabilities?"

My 'Dad' answered before my 'Mom' could, "He's healthy sir."

My 'Mom' however felt like she needs to correct 'Dad', "Well, actually, our youngest is healthy, but my little _bubala _here is feeling a little under the weather today... He'll be fit though after he gets his shots though."

My Dad looked more angry than disappointed as he whispered loudly to 'Mom', "Sheila!"

'Mom' still didn't get it apparently, "What, Gerald? It's important to disclose any health issues so Ezekiel can receive medical care for it."

I mentally slap myself. The doctor pursued the matter further.

"What kind of shots, ma'am?"

Before 'Dad' could hush 'Mom', she was already answering, "Oh, well... he's always been a little diabetic. What sorts of medical care do you provide here?"

The doctor avoided answering the question, "All right, ma'am, you and your two sons are to go to the left line here," he gestured towards the left line, which is on his right, "And you, sir, go to the right line," he gestured to his left.

'Mom' started heading towards the left line with Ike. My Dad looked at her, then to me. He frowned before letting go of my hand and headed towards the right line. Feelings of sadness hit me like a tidal wave engulfing half of Japan. Why do I feel this strongly in a fake simulation of the Holocaust? Whatever, I'll just roll with it. I glared at the doctor who basically condemned us.

"Hey! I'm not sick at all... My diabetes is not serious!" My 'Dad' turned around from where he's standing in line, hearing my voice. The doctor definitely didn't look amused, but I continued, "Please, I wanna go with my Dad."

The doctor reached over and shoved me towards the left line, not wanting to hear anything I have to say, "Left line, move you stupid disobedient Jew!"

Oh, hell no. I was not having any of that, not even in a flashback! Before my mind registered what I was doing, I was already doing it. I pushed the SS Doctor to the ground and punched his face hard. Oh yeah that felt good. The good feeling went away though when two SS members yanked me away from the doctor and slammed the butt of their rifle into my gut. I gasped and held my stomach in a fetal position. But they didn't stop there. I felt the hard boots kicking and stomping into my back and shoulders. I cried out and begged them to stop. Everything felt so real. The pain, the cold weather, the stench of piss and tears on the train, and the taste of copper in my mouth.

As soon as they were on top of me, they were off. I hesitantly opened my eyes, coughing. Everything was blurry so I rubbed my eyes. Ugh, I'm crying, great. I blinked a few times and saw my 'Dad' pulling away one of the SS off of me. I couldn't do anything except lie there in agony trying to catch my breath. My 'Dad' looks furious.

"Don't touch him! He's just a boy, please! J-just let him come with me, I'll teach him some manners and -"

My heart stopped. Just a few seconds ago, my 'Dad' was trying to save me from becoming a bloody pulp. Now my 'Dad' laid lifeless on the ground with a bullet in his skull. His blood pooled on the ground by his head. I didn't react physically, but my mind was racing at a thousand miles per hour. My 'Dad' was killed in cold blood right in front of me.

I heard a click. Looking up, I saw a pistol aiming straight towards my forehead. Time slowed down, everything was quiet. I think I heard my 'Mom' shrieking in the background somewhere. What do they say when you die in a dream? Does it apply to flashbacks? I closed my eyes, waiting for the bullet that will end my flashback life. But it never came.

"Ay! Who gave you the order to fire?!"

"S-Scharführer Fuhrmann!"

Wait... That voice? No fucking way... I opened my eyes and sure enough, dressed head to toe in that offensive uniform, was Eric fucking Cartman. If it were any other occasion, I would barf. Judging from the way his uniform looks, he seems to be of a higher rank than the two guys beating me. Cartman didn't see me yet, he attention is fixed on the SS holding the pistol aiming at my head.

"Scharführer Fuhrmann? You don't saaaaay?" He looked up, tapping his chin looking deep in thought. Just like fucking Cartman does, "Hmmm oh but wait, I'm Scharführer Fuhrmann. And I fuckin' know that I didn't give any fuckin' orders to fire on the fuckin' Jews!"

He took out a riding crop that was resting on his belt and whacked the SS's face so hard, he ended up on the ground. The other SS was standing at attention, probably hoping not to receive the same punishment as his fellow soldier.

Cartman pointed his crop at him, "You," he then directed his crop towards the still warm body of my dead 'Dad', "Get this garbage out of mah sight."

"_Jawohl_, Scharführer Fuhrmann!"

The SS helped his fallen SS off the ground and the two dragged my 'Dad' away, leaving a blood trail on the ground. With a final glance to make sure the SS are out of sight, Cartman walked over and squat down by me with the most slimiest shit eating grin I ever seen on his fatass face.

"_Willkommen in Auschwitz_, Kahl."

* * *

**Notes from SEGAMew_**

And that's Chapter 2! How was it? Getting exciting? Thanks to everyone who reviewed (read: no one). Stay tuned for the next installment of Liebende Rückblende.

**Translation Notes_**

_Bubala/Bubbe _- Terms of endearment that Kyle's Mom uses on the show for him. It's the Jewish/Yiddish word can is basically like saying 'dear' or 'sweetie'. Oddly enough, 'bubbe' means Grandmother according to the internet...

_Ahuvati - J_ewish term of endearment from husband to wife. Basically means 'my beloved'. No, Gerald never used this term in the show.

_Arbeit macht frei_' - Work makes (you) free. Could also be interpreted as Freedom through work.

_Jawohl_ - Equivilant to a 'Yessir!', 'Aye aye!' or other strong yes affirmations.

_Willkommen in Auschwitz _- Welcome to Auschwitz


	3. Chapter 3 - Ein Freund

**Liebend****e Rückblende**

**By SEGAMew**

* * *

**Disclaimer: **

South Park and all related characters are property of Trey Parker and Matt Stone, because they are geniuses and I'm not.

Any historical persons that appear in this work of fiction are loosely based of their real life counterpart and possibly portrayed poorly. Reader discretion is advised.

There is no plans to include any OCs/FCs in this fanfiction. So don't worry if you're anti OC/FC. If there are to be any OC/FC, they will be only background characters with probably a few unmemorable lines.

* * *

**Last Time in ****Liebend****e ****Rückblende Ch. 2:**

Stan learns that Cartman and Kenny are no longer Best Friends.

Kyle learns that getting beat up in the Flashback really really hurts.

Cartman learns that Kyle joining in on the 'festivities' of Auschwitz soon.

* * *

**Pairings**: Kyman (Kyle x Cartman) and others that will be revealed in later chapters (absolutely no fan pairings)

**Warnings**: M for harsh language and horrendous gratuitous acts of violence. No lemon/smut/stuff like that because I'm horrible at writing such things. There will be mild lime and adult situations however. I mean come on, it's a South Park fanfic!

* * *

**Chapter 3: ****Ein Freund (A Friend)**

* * *

**Location: Hell's Pass Hospital**

_**Liane's POV**_

I walked down the familiar hallways of Hell's Pass Hospital carrying a variety of get well presents I purchased for him from J-Mart. My little Eric always gets himself sent here when he plays with his little friends too roughly. It's a good thing his toys often get broken or murder themselves very often so I always know what to get him.

I opened the door where Eric and his little Jewish friend are staying. There I saw Randy and Sharon's boy, Stanley, sitting between the two occupied beds and watching television. It looks like a program on the History Channel my little poopsikins would watch. The one with the Germans in those incredibly attractive uniforms. I fancy Germans myself, they can sure come up with the kinkiest fantasies that gets me all hot and excited with anticipation. I also wouldn't mind getting together with a Japanese man considering all the freaky things I hear about Japan, but I heard a rumor that they have really small penises...

Stanley glanced at me briefly as if to check who is entering before returning to face the television. He did greeted me with a "Hello, Mrs. Cartman". Such a sweet boy. Sometimes I wish my little Eric would be a little more approachable with people, but I love him just the same. I placed his gifts down by his bedside and reached over to stroke his hair. He looks so peaceful when he's in his little coma state. Hopefully he doesn't wake up with another God-given gift though. I have to admit, it was frightening when he was having his little psychic battle in my living room with the other psychics. I wouldn't be able to afford paying the repair bills again. After kissing Eric on his forehead, I exited the room.

_**Stan's POV**_

After Cartman's mom left the room, I went over to check out his gifts. I feel sorry for her sometimes. She's too a nice of a woman to have a crappy son like Cartman. His gifts aren't wrapped up so I can see what she got for him. A red Mega Ranger and a yellow Mega Ranger. Guess the green one is still hard as ever to find. I returned back to my seat in front of the Dream-Viewer and continued watching. I hope Kyle will come out alright, that was some pretty intense stuff happening in there.

**Location: Auschwitz II - Birkenau**

_**Cartman's POV**_

_(about 5 minutes before the end of Kyle's POV in the last chapter)_

I walked down the main road after performing my duties on that last batch of those good for nothing stinking Jews. Their screams are like sweet, sweet music to my ears. Totally like, the opposite of babies crying, which is annoying as fuck. I hummed a tune as I approached the loading dock full of awaiting Jews, oblivious to their fate. Hehehehe...

Hmm? I thought I saw something familiar and green deep in the crowd. Dude, no way... Ha! Things will become very interesting...

I walked up behind all the SS Doctors performing their selection jobs to get a better view of the Jews. Maybe I can give _him_ a personal welcome. While waiting, I noticed one of the white coats close by not doing his job. What the fuck? This is one of the better jobs in this sweet place! I briskly walked over to demand why wasn't he doing his job. Before I opened my yap though, I noticed he is an Untersturmführer ranking officer. Well crap, I can't exactly yell at him. Well I can, but I like my face off the ground. I recalled his last name is Münch. He's not usually in this camp often for me to have an idea of how he is like. Anyway I addressed him properly with a quick pop to attention, salute, then relaxing.

"_Hallo_, Untersturmführer Münch."

He flashed an indescribable look before greeting back, "_Hallo..._ _Herr_ Scharführer."

"Fuhrmann."

He nodded, "Scharführer Fuhrmann."

I turned my head towards the lines of newly arriving Jews, "The weather is clear and not too cold like it was this mornin', perfect for selections if I would say mahself," I turned my attention back to Münch, "Any reason why you're not _selectin'_?"

He flashed me an almost dirty look. What the fuck, how dare he! I grabbed the riding crop hooked to my belt and swung it towards him, the end stopping right in front of his face under his chin. I gritted my teeth and spoke in a low voice.

"_Respektieren Sie meine Autoritäh, _understand?"

This Münch guy just stands there looking at me with that same fucking dirty look. He holds the tip of my riding crop and pushed it down, then he faced the Jew crowd and let out a quiet "_Ja._" ARG! Why is this guy being a dick and not following the orders of the super awesome Scharführer Fuhrmann?! Worst yet, my orders are practically from _Führer Hitler _himself! What a fucking asshole, if it were up to me, I would -

"Ugh! S-stop it please *cough* Stop! It hurts it hurts!"

I snapped my head towards the direction of that voice. There's no mistaking who the owner of _that_ voice was.

""Don't touch him! He's just a boy, please! J-just let him come with me, I'll teach him some manners and -"

**BANG**

I forget my issues with the douchebag doctor and rushed over to the scene in progress. When I arrived, I saw some guy that looks like a shaggier version of Kyle's dad who's more dead than a horse, Kyle who is all beaten up and stuff, and two SS soldiers who are of a lower rank than me. One of them has his pistol aiming at Kyle's head. Oh no no no, if anyone has the authoritah to kill Kyle, it's me and only me. I marched over to them putting on my most pissed off looking face.

"Ay! Who gave you the order to fire?!"

The pistol holder addressed me with something like surprise in his voice. I probably scared him with my authoritah.

"S-Scharführer Fuhrmann!"

Taking advantage of this time to exert my anger (that Münch guy is lucky to have so much rank over me, fuck him), I decided to screw with him.

"Scharführer Fuhrmann? You don't saaaaay?" I stroked my chin pretending to be deep in thought, "Hmmm oh but wait, I'm Scharführer Fuhrmann. And I fuckin' know that I didn't give any fuckin' orders to fire on the fuckin' Jews!"

I whipped out my sweet riding crop and obliterated the SS until he dropped to the ground. Since I'm like super strong and stuff like fucking Jesus with an M-16, it only took one strike. I faced his partner who was standing at attention and probably shitting his pants.

I pointed my crop towards him, "You." then pointed towards the bleeding mess that was Kyle's dad, "Get this garbage out of mah sight."

With the respect I deserve, the SS yelled out clearly, "_Jawohl_, Scharführer Fuhrmann!" then helped his whipped SS partner up and dealt with the corpse. Once they're out of my sight, and walked towards Kyle. He lied on the ground holding his stomach in a fetal position. Blood was dripping from his mouth a little and boot prints are all over his back. I can hear his pained breathing and see his sad little Jew tears. This makes me very delighted, oh so very delighted. I put on cheerful happy grin, like a flight attendant asking if you like a drink.

"_Willkommen in Auschwitz_, Kahl."

He pathetically reached up and wiped his eyes. He barely spoke above a whisper. Wasn't he just screaming his lungs out earlier?

"C... Cart... m.. an..."

I grabbed his hair and forced him to look at me, "I advise that you call me Scharführer Fuhrmann. I have authoritah and you will respect it, Jew."

He yelped and tried to pull away from my grip. Oh it pleases me to see Kyle squirm under my power.

"Shit, d-dude... L-leggo..."

I twisted his hair a bit, earning me another cry from the stupid Jewrat. Yes yeeeessssss... Music to my ears. I leaned closer to his face while showing him my angelic smile.

"If you refer to meh as mah sweet flashback name, I _might_ leggo your Jewfro."

Kyle's tears ran down his face more than before, probably because of my strong as hell grip on his faggy curly hair. He's now trying to pry my hand off of his hair. I lightly stroked the edge of my riding crop against his cheek.

"Go on, say mah name, you fuckin' kike."

Well, that pissed him off.

He fucking kneed me.

In the fucking nuts.

I quickly let go of his hair. Well no... actually I threw him on the ground and kicked dirt into his fucking ginger face. I seethed in pain while protecting my crotch. I can't believe Kyle would do something so underhanded! Well actually I can, because he's a good for nothing dirty Jew! It's a good thing he didn't kick me that hard though, I would have killed him on the spot. I watched him returned to his fetal position on the ground, covering his face trying to get the dirt off probably. I'm going to have to kill him later, I'm fucking seriously.

I searched for that asshole doctor from earlier. Sweet, he's still standing there. Well not so sweet because it looks like he watched that entire scene, including where the kike nailed me in the nuts. Grrrrr I'm going to have to cut off Kyle's nuts, then kill him.

"Ay! Münch! Get over here, now!" I don't give a crap about respecting his rank right now.

Surprisingly, he didn't hesitate coming over. Still rubbing my sore crotch, I aimed my crop towards Kyle, "Take care of him."

And then he's back to taking his sweet time answering. He looked at Kyle, who looked more pathetic than before I might add, then asked, "In what manner are you suggesting that I take care of him?"

I rolled my eyes. Jesus fucking Christ how did he earn his rank?! I hooked my crop back on my belt and stomped over and stopped in front of Kyle. Before he could notice what he thinks I'm probably gonna do, I grabbed his left hand, pull it outwards and hold it down on the ground palm down. I quickly placed my right boot and dug it into his shoulder so he can't Jew his way out of this one. I placed my right hand on the hilt of my military issued knife (though he can't see the what I have my hand on from his angle). I whispered into his ear.

"I'll give you one more chance. Address me properly. Acknowledge mah authoritah."

"F... Fu..."

"Yes, what is it, Kahl...?"

He glares at me, "Fuck... your authoritah."

Yeah, I expected that to happen. With the speed of the internet, I pulled out my knife and stabbed it right into Kyle's forearm. It's probably like two or three inches in! Ah yes, that sweet Jewish cry in sweet stereo. Getting off of Kyle, I pulled him off the ground and shoved him towards Münch, who of course caught him. I walked away from the scene, intending to go back to acting out everything Führer Hitler wishes for this camp.

"I stabbed his arm and not his neck. _Kümmere dich um ihn_, understand?"

_**Kyle's POV**_

Pain, so much pain... Pain everywhere, I can't think! I can't even remember that fatass's fucking flashback name! I clutched the hilt of the knife wanting to pull it out and plunge it right into that racist freak's heart! Wait, doesn't he even have one?! Moses I'm shaking so bad from the shock of everything. I'm trying to dull the pain by taking deep breaths but it's so damn hard! I think those SS earlier broke a rib or something when they were drilling their boots into me. I-I think I'm gonna faint...

Wait... Who is next to me? Someone is leading me somewhere... I feel so dizzy, I could only stare at the ground as we walked. The person beside me is wearing SS styled boots... Fuck he must be leading me to one of those goddamn gas chambers! I have to get away! I gathered up my strength and darted away from him, running away to... Somewhere. Unfortunately as soon as I summoned my strength, it left me just as quickly. My legs failed me and I came tumbling down to the ground, luckily not landing on the knife that's still embedded into my arm. Fuck Cartman...

I heard the SS approaching close. I tried to get up but my only working arm shook so much. Am I shaking from the pain or fear? No clue anymore... So light... He...head...ed...

**Location: Hell's Pass Hospital**

_**Stan's POV**_

I had to close my eyes and count to twenty to prevent myself from killing Cartman with my bare hands. How could he stabbed Kyle like that?! For what purpose?! Shit dude, I know you are psychotic but Kyle is our friend. Maybe he's not a best friend to you but still, you guys find some way to put up with each other.

I heard the door opened and Kenny walked in carrying his laptop.

Kenny waved, "Mmmph mmff."

I waved back, "Hey, Kenny."

He went over to the desk and hooked up his laptop. After powering it on, he tethered his iPhone to his laptop and proceeded to surf the web. I pinched the bridge of my nose.

"Dude, really? You can't go wireless in a hospital or else you'll make the hospital machines explode and stuff!"

Kenny shrugs, "Mm mmphph mppfff mph."

"C'mon, Kenny. I don't want you you to kill Kyle or something! Have you seen Final Destination?!"

He put his hands on his hips, "Mpph mmph! Mppph mffph!"

"I don't know when they'll wake up. Anyway you don't have to research anything, I'm taping this Dream-Viewer and presenting it as a movie for our project."

He tilts his head, "Phhmpm mpph?"

"Oh it's like watching a dream basically. Cartman and Kyle are in a flashback during the Holocaust. Cartman is a huge dick in the flashback too. I am worried about Kyle though, I think the experience might traumatize him or something."  
"Mmmm..."

Kenny walked over to the Dream-Viewer and watched. I joined him as well.

**Location: Auschwitz II - Birkenau**

_**Münch's POV**_

I don't claim that I can read Scharführer Fuhrmann's mind. However one thing I do know, is that his mental instability rivals that of Dr. Josef Mengele... As impossible as it sounds. I have heard from others that Fuhrmann has no qualms unleashing his unavoidable wrath upon prisoners (and SS apparently) if they were to minor things such as accidentally bump into him or make his boots dirty. Whatever he has planned for this child, it surely can't be good.

I briskly lead the Jewish child down the main road towards the hospital barracks while keeping his left arm elevated. As a doctor, it is my sworn duty to heal the wounded. I refuse to break that oath by participating in those abominations they call 'selections'.

Suddenly, the child struggled out of my grasp and dashed off. He hardly moved ten feet before collapsing. I let out a sigh of relief when he didn't land on his left arm. I rushed over and knelt beside him, the poor boy was shaking like a leaf and severely hyperventilating. _Verdammt!_ Recalling back to my medical training back in Tübingen, I cupped his mouth with my palm and plugged one of his nostril with my thumb in order slow down his oxygen intake to just one nostril. He flinched and shook his head trying return to mouth breathing, but I force my hand still. I held the back of his head with my free hand to keep it in still. After approximately thirty seconds, he seemed to have calmed down a little. Still keeping my palm over his mouth, I moved my other hand off of his head and gently rubbed the back of his neck. Whether on babies or adults, this is a true proven method to calm someone down.

_**Kyle's POV**_

... That lightheaded feeling is not so strong anymore...

There was a foreign hand on my face that felt like it's suffocating me, but not really. It's hard to explain... I also felt someone rubbing the back of my neck too. I weakly gazed up to see who is with me.

It's... The SS Doctor with the mustache?

Upon identifying him, I instinctively want to run away and never look back. I guess he noticed my discomfort because he lifted his hand covering my mouth and tugged on the collar of his coat so that it hides the SS runes stitched on his actual uniform collar. I relaxed a little, though I'm still in fucking excruciating pain because of this damn knife.

"Jewish boy, I understand your concern and your uneasiness around me, a member of the Schutzstaffel. However, for now the time being, please allow me treat you."

The tone of voice is very different compared to the other SS yelling and crap. Kind, honest... I closed my eyes (I'm so exhausted...) and nodded my head. I felt myself being lifted up and carried to who knows where. Hopefully somewhere far away...

_**Münch's POV**_

After checking in with the SS guard of Camp F, I made it to the hospital barracks with the boy in my arms. I removed my peaked cap and placed it on the clothes rack. I scanned the room and unsurprisingly, all the beds are more than occupied with the sick and dead. Suppressing the urge to empty my stomach, I scanned the area for a good area to lay the boy down. Finding a spot in a corner, I lowered him down and went to fetch the medical supplies. Returning with some, the first thing I did was clean my hands and arms and put on latex gloves. I hope to God this little one isn't allergic to latex. I took out a pair of scissors and cut into the coat sleeve up until I hit the knife. I placed the scissors back on a clean sheet of napkin and rolled up his sleeve. Reaching into the kit, I pulled out rubbing alcohol. After I applied some to a clean cloth, I disinfect the area around the knife. At this point, the little boy's eyes opened and he winced a little. I hoped he would stay subdued a little longer.

"I like you to close your eyes for me and take a deep breath. Can you do that?"

He gave a small nod and inhaled slowly. I quickly pressed down on the area around the puncture point, placed my free hand on the handle, and pulled out.

"AAGH FUCKING SHIT!"

I intercepted his hand that was about to clutch the wound and held it away. I already am applying pressure to the entry point. He trembled and seethed in absolute pain. I placed his intercepted hand down and proceeded to dress the wound.

"Almost done...shh..."

"Augh... H-hurts..." He squeezed his eyes, taking in gulps of air to distract him from he pain.

Finally I finished dressing the wound. I rubbed the wounded arm to get some circulation back in there.

"Th... Thank you... "

I glanced at him to see a little tired smile. Actually, I just noticed that he looks really exhausted. Was there something ailing him besides the knife wound? I placed my palm on his forehead and found it very warm. Producing a small hand flashlight, I examined both his eyes, the inside of his mouth, and listen to his heart while asking him a series of questions.

"What is your name?"

"Kuh..." he paused for a moment, "Eh..zek..ial..."

His heart rate is unusually fast...

"I'm glad to meet you Ezekial. My name is Dr. Münch. How old are you?"

"... T-ten..."

Though it is cold today, he is sweating...

"How are you feeling? Where does it hurt, besides your arm?"

His eyes lowered a little, barely still watching me, "I... can I sleep... puh-please..."

I thought about his request. It could either mean he's relaxed enough to sleep in my presence, or he's so exhausted that he's forgoing all possible risks to sleep. Suddenly I remembered something back at the platform.

_"Hey! I'm not sick at all... My diabetes is not serious!" _

Of course, it all makes sense! I rubbed both of his upper arms as a sign of reassurance and to rouse him up so he can listen to me.

"Ezekial, I'm going out to get a few things for you. Stay here, it'll only be ten minutes. If you can, please stay awake. If an SS who is not me approaches you and asks you questions, tell them that I ordered you to sit here. Understand?"

Ezekiel was looking at me, and yet not. He blinked a few times and forced himself to focus on me before nodding. With that, I got up, returned my peaked cap to my head, and exited the hospital barracks.

* * *

**Notes from SEGAMew_**

Yaaaaaaay two people reviewed! You are awesome 1%! Huzzah!

_Jasmine-Kyman: Thanks for the compliment :)

_Marty: Alas, the power of Google Translate has failed me! Hahaha. Yeah I love a more authentic reading experience, especially in regards to more historical fanfiction. I spent weeks soaking up information about this time period and planned every chapter out before writing. Expect more excitement in the future chapters! :D

To everyone who has enjoyed my story and hasn't reviewed, please do so! They are a huge motivation booster! And yes, everyone who has a name so far are based on actual historical people.

**Translation Notes_**

_Herr _- It's like an honorific for Sir or Mister. Imagine if you are an anime enthusiast, it's the equivalent of -san. From my understanding, when you are addressing someone's title in terms of occupation, you would say it like Herr Dr. Münch.

_Respektieren Sie meine Autorität (Autoritäh)_- Respect my Authority(tah)

_Jawohl_ - Equivilant to a 'Yessir!', 'Aye aye!' or other strong yes affirmations.

_Kümmere dich um ihn - _Take care of him.

_Verdammt! - _Dammit!


	4. Chapter 4 - Realisierung

**Liebend****e ****Rückblende**

**By SEGAMew**

* * *

**Disclaimer: **

South Park and all related characters are property of Trey Parker and Matt Stone, because they are geniuses and I'm not.

Any historical persons that appear in this work of fiction are loosely based of their real life counterpart and possibly portrayed poorly. Reader discretion is advised.

There is no plans to include any OCs/FCs in this fanfiction. So don't worry if you're anti OC/FC. If there are to be any OC/FC, they will be only background characters with probably a few unmemorable lines.

* * *

**Last Time in ****Liebend****e ****Rückblende Ch. 3:**

Stan learns that Cartman still doesn't have a Green Mega Ranger.

Cartman learns that Kyle is still a dirty Jew who refuses to respect his Authoritah.

Kyle is in so much fucking pain that he didn't really learn anything.

Münch learns that Kyle is diabetic.

* * *

**Pairings**: Kyman (Kyle x Cartman) and others that will be revealed in later chapters (absolutely no fan pairings)

**Warnings**: M for harsh language and horrendous gratuitous acts of violence. No lemon/smut/stuff like that because I'm horrible at writing such things. There will be mild lime and adult situations however. I mean come on, it's a South Park fanfic!

* * *

**Chapter 4: Realisierung (Realization)**

* * *

**Location: Auschwitz II - Birkenau**

_**Kyle's POV (about 5 minutes before the end of Münch's POV in the last chapter)**_

I think we're in a building... I have no idea. I feel so messed up. The only reason why I think I'm in a building was because of the mustached SS Doctor's boot steps hitting what is probably a concrete surface. I'm being carried for a little bit before I was placed on the floor, against the corner of the room or building or whatever.

I felt my knifed arm being lifted up a little followed by someone cutting my sleeve. Must be the SS Doctor. Suddenly I felt a sting on my arm, following by a cool feeling on my skin. Definitely alcohol. I winced and opened my eyes, the stinging 'waking' me up from my almost sleeping state. He spoke to me in a calm voice.

"I like you to close your eyes for me and take a deep breath. Can you do that?"

I nodded and slowly took a deep breath. I was still pretty out of it so I'm not sure what to expect. Then...

"AAGH FUCKING SHIT!"

Fueled by natural primal instincts, I raised my right hand wanting to grab my now knifeless, vulnerable left arm. However my reach was blocked off by the doctor's much stronger grip on my wrist. Took me a second to realize that he was already (or was he always?) applying pressure on my left arm. I trembled in response to the searing pain in my left arm. It fucking hurts so bad! The SS Doctor put my hand down and started dressing my stab wound.

He whispered to me, almost like how a mom would patch up a kid's knee, "Almost done...shh..."

I squeezed my eyes shut and concentrated on taking deep breaths to block out the pain. Not really working.

"Augh... H-hurts..."

Finally, he finished patching my arm up. He rubbed my arm, probably to rub the pain away or something. I opened my eyes a little and flashed him an appreciative smile.

"Th... Thank you... "

I almost forgot that he's a Nazi. It's really weird... I can actually... tolerate...

I felt his palm on my forehead. Huh? When did I closed my eyes? He pushed my head back a little bit and forced each of my eyes opened while shinning an annoying light.

"What is your name?"

I wait for him to stop examining my mouth before answering.

"Kuh..." no... I should use my Flashback name, "Eh..zek..ial..."

Shit, why... do I sound so...

"I'm glad to meet you Ezekiel. My name is Dr. Münch."

I felt two fingers against my jugular vein.

"How old are you?"

My eyelids weigh a ton... How old am I again? I think I'm...

"... T-ten..."

"How are you feeling? Where does it hurt, besides your arm?"

... can't focus...

"I... can I sleep... puh-please..."

I closed my eyes... I blacked out I think.

The next thing I realize, he was gone...

...

..

.

**Location: Hell's Pass Hospital**

_**Dr. Doctor's POV**_

My peaceful nap in one of the patient rooms was interrupted by unrelenting tugging of my coat sleeve. Looking over, I saw that strange kid wearing the orange parka. By strange, I mean this feeling I have that he's a regular patient here but never ever recalling him checking out of the hospital, nor do his records indicate such. Oh well, probably the stress of doctoring in the hospital.

"Mmmph mpph!"

I have no idea what he said, but I followed him until we reached the room where Eric Cartman and Kyle Broflovski were assigned to. Upon entering, I saw Stanley putting a damp cloth on the young Broflovski's forehead. Stanley looked at me worriedly.

"Dr. Doctor! Christ, h-he's burning up! Please help him, Doc!"

I rushed over to check the readings on his monitor, then to the boy, " What is happening to Kyle in the dream world?"

Stanley looks offended, "H-huh? Why... why are you asking that? My super best friend is here, not in that crazy Nazi nightmare goddammit!"

I decided to ignore his use of language, "The Kyle in the dream world, he's in a bad situation, isn't he?"

He broke his eye contact with me and faced Kyle, frowning, "Yeah..."

I sighed, rubbing my forehead, "I was afraid of that."

He quickly faced me again, "What do you mean? What's wrong with Kyle?!"

I rubbed my chin, thinking of the easiest way to explain something complex as this to the young boy. I tapped the top of the Dream-Viewer.

"Think of it this way... Have you watched _Nightmare on Elm Street_?"

"Actually no, I haven't... But I met Freddy Krueger once."

"Well, to be brief, Kyle's dream self and Kyle's real self are linked together. Whenever something happens to Dream Kyle, our Kyle reacts to it."

I paused, waiting for Stanley's reaction. He nods in understanding, but still has that frown. I decided to continue.

"If something severe happens to Dream Kyle, that trauma manifests itself onto his physical body."

Stanley reached over and held one of Kyle's hands. He looked at me with an expression I can only described as a mix of concern and sorrow, "Doctor... If Dream Kyle were to die in there, would he die for real?"

"Um... There's not a lot of data in this study, so I'm not sure what will happen if Dream Kyle dies."

"..."

"..."

"..."

"...Would you like to sign the DNR form, Stanley?"

"No!"

**Location: Auschwitz II - Birkenau**

_**Cartman's POV**_

Walking towards the hospital barracks, I saw that buttMünch heading towards the kitchen in the Woman's Camp. Well shit, I told him to take care of Kyle, not stuff his face or hooking up with stupid girls! Meh whatever, if you want something done, you have to grab the initiative by the balls. I strolled right into the hospital barracks. Ugh I fucking hate this building, it smells worse than homeless people in a hot day in here! I took my peaked cap off and placed the opened end over my mouth to reduce the stench. It didn't take long for me to spot Kyle sitting in the corner dozing off. Aw how cute... NOT! I marched over and stood in front of him.

"Ay! Who says you can nap?!"

His finger twitched, but that was it. The fucking nerve of that fucking Jewrat! I spoke louder with authoritah.

"God dammit, look at meh when I'm talkin' to you!"

Kyle whispered while his eyes are still closed, "... fuck... you..."

My hands found their way to Kyle's collar and lifted him up to my face, "Care to run that by meh again, kike?"

Kyle finally woke up, no doubt by my constant shaking him. Christ, how hard is to to make some eye contact?! However, he didn't angrily attack me or glare at me like the Jewrat typically does when I use the 'K' word, much to my surprise. If I were to describe him, I would say he looks pretty fucked up. Not the good after a few bottles of booze kind either.

Slowly, he put his hands on my hands, looked at me with barely opened eyes, and whispered, "This flashback... S-stop it..."

I smirked and roughly toss him back against the wall. The Jew coughed on impact and held his arm, the one I stabbed.

"Oh, Kahl... I'm afraid I'm not in control of when the flashback starts or ends."

Kyle looked at me in disbelief, "Wuh... wha?"

My arms rested on the small of my back. I leaned over and whispered into his ear, "You're stuck on this train ride with meh. Someone else is the conductor," then I stood up straight and walked towards the exit.

I had just put my cap back on when I heard something hitting the floor behind me. I spun around and saw the Jew on the ground passed out and shit. What the fuck is wrong with him? All I did was stab his arm, it's not even that serious! I rolled my eyes and put him back into a sitting position like I saw him earlier. Now that I got a closer look at him, he does look really fucked up. He's all sweaty and shaking and shit. Is he hot or cold or what? I don't get it. But then again, 'Gingervitus' is one disease I'll never fully understand. He mumbled something but it was hard to understand. I shook his shoulder, but not as hard as earlier.

"Dude, what the fuck are you mumbling about?"

Kyle leaned forward a little bit and placed his forehead on his good hand, which is not the one I stabbed, "ugh... can't..."

"Ay! Whatever ya have, it better not be contagious! If I die here, mah real body dies with it!"

The stupid Jew gave me a stupid look like he couldn't believe me or didn't hear me. I repeated again, slower and more clearly... And with authoritah.

"If either of us dies in this flashback, our bodies in the real world does too. Got that memorized, Jew? Actually I don't give a shit about what happens to you. You can die. I however don't want to fuckin' die before I play fucking Call of Duty: Advanced Warfare! Fucking Call of Duty: Advanced Warfare, Kahl!"

Kyle quickly covered his mouth in such a way that indicates disgust. Shit is he serious? Call of Duty is the fucking shit! Way better than that faggoty Battlefield series!

I saw him tear up before he looked away from me. What a pussy faggot Jew. Can't admit that Call of Duty is the better game.

"... die... n-no way..."

Kyle held himself as the truth of my words sunk in. Not the truth about Call of Duty being sweet, which is unfortunate. Hmmm well, I guess it would suck for Kyle if he dies here. Maybe I can take advantage of this situation.

"Yeah, Kahl. You're probably gonna die here. If you just let meh use your TV OH!, you wouldn't be in this awesome flashback. However..." I paused to make sure he is listening, he is, "If say, we get out of this flashback alive... You pay meh ten million dollars. I believe that's a good price for your life, not that I think you're actually worth that much."

He glared at me, or something close to a glare. I would say it's more like upset than anger. He coughed into his good arm (which is obviously the one I didn't stabbed) and talked in a lazy tired voice he's been speaking in the entire time.

"I... don't have..."

Ugh he's a fucking no good Jew and his fucking dad is a lawyer! How can he not have ten million bucks? That is chump change! I rubbed my chin, thinking of an alternative form of payment.

"How about... five hundred dollars, you do mah homework for the rest of the school year..." I grinned, "And you suck mah balls. In front of your boyfriend, Stan."

"N-no! Fuck that!"

Well, his energy returned really quick. I reached for my pistol in my belt holster and pressed the barrel against Kyle's forehead, which made him go wide-eye in delicious fear.

"Well, if we can't come to an agreement, there's no point in keeping your fuckin' Jew ass around, now is there?"

"I-I...C-Cart...man...I..."

Fuck, I hate it when people stutter. And he looks like he's on the verge of a panic attack and crap too. I returned my pistol to my holster. It's no fun to mess with Kyle when he's acting like Tweak. I like messing with people when they're fully aware of what I'm doing. Just like with Scott Tenorman. With the pistol out of sight, the Jewrat relaxed a little but it still looks like something is bothering him. Whatever I don't give a fuck. I lightly kicked the bottom of his shoe to jolt him awake then started walking towards the exit.

"Kahl, sometimes we all have to bend over to get what we want. Want me to protect your Jew balls? Well I'm gonna need a little somethin' in exchange. That's how the world works. And believe it or not, there are people here who do terrible things. There is no such thing as the 'Gentleman's Code' in this camp. Let that sink in. I'll give you twenty-four flashback hours to give meh your final answer to my proposal."

I looked over my back to see the Jew passed out against the wall, and again,not the good passed out with booze kind either. Something is nagging me about his passed out state too. He looks like he's in pain and it wasn't caused by me either. Like, I feel great when I inflict pain on others, be it psychologically or physically. I feel fucking great stabbing the dirty Jew, but something other than the stab wound is affecting him and I don't like it one bit. Not one bit at all. I don't like not being in control over one's condition, especially Kyle.

Oh well, probably a cold or something.

_**Münch's POV (approximately five minutes after Cartman leaves Kyle)**_

I returned to the hospital barracks with a paper bag containing a variety of items. I hanged my peaked cap on the cloths rack and went over to Ezekiel. He's exactly where I left him... location wise. I knelt down and shook his shoulder. I frowned, then shook him firmer. I let out a sigh of relief when he opened his eyes, albeit barely halfway, and not focused on anything.

"Ezekiel."

No reply. I try again.

"Ezekiel, how do you feel?"

This time, he blinked and gazed towards me, though his head didn't move from its original position. Poor boy, he's so weak. I reached into the bag and withdrew an unopened bag of _Gummibär_. I opened the bag, took out one of the small gelatin bears, and held it close to the boy's mouth.

"Ezekiel, you're suffering from extremely low blood sugar levels. Can you eat twelve of these?"

He glanced down towards the gummy bear between my fingers and slightly nodded. I fed him the first piece and watched him chew and swallow. Eventually, he managed to consume twelve of the gummy pieces after roughly ten minutes. Hopefully that'll do it. I never treated anyone with diabetes before so this is something of a new experience for me.

"Th... thirsty..."

I smiled hearing his voice returning. Reaching into the bag, I pulled out a bottle of grape juice. I was just about to twist the top when I heard a voice.

"_Herr _Dr. Münch, you can't give the boy that."

I looked up to see one of the Jewish prisoners who was forced into labor as a doctor, Berthold Epstein. He is an older man in his late 40's (though the stress of this camp does make him look older than he is). I believe he hails Austria or Hungary somewhere.

"What do you mean by that, _Herr _Dr. Epstein?"

He walks over and removes the grape juice bottle from my hands. He examined the bottle, rotating it as if reading the label. He then knelt down near Ezekiel, twisted the lid open, and placed the bottle in the boy's small hands. He aided the boy with lifting the bottle to his lips, allowing him to drink. Epstein spoke to me while still holding up the bottle.

"It isn't kosher for a non-Jew to pass grape-based products to one of the Jewish faith."

"I-I see..."

Usually I respect the religion of others, but life and death situations seems hardly appropriate to consider one's religions. I watched Ezekiel drink roughly half of the small bottle of grape juice before withdrawing and wiping his mouth with the back of his right hand. I smiled seeing his eyes looking more lively, no longer dull and distant. I reached into the paper bag, pulling the last item. Epstein spoke before he could see what I pulled out.

"You shouldn't overdo it. You know we don't have any Benedict's agent readily available to test glucose levels."

I pulled a vial and a syringe, "I'm not feeding him anymore sugar. Just going to inject some painkiller for his arm. That crazy SS stabbed him."

"...Dr. Mengele?"

I suppressed a chuckle, "Actually, Fuhrmann."

"That... Actually, that makes just as much sense."

I filled the syringe halfway with the drug, then tapped it to remove the bubbles, "I'm quite surprised he didn't kill the boy."

Epstein helped me with rolling up the boy's right sleeve and disinfecting the arm for entry. I felt his arm with two fingers, looking for his vein. Finding it, I stick in the needle and slowly inject the fluid into his arm. Ezekiel gasped and shifted uncomfortably. He trembled, then looked at me with a concerned expression.

"Wha... what are you..."

I finished injecting and removed the needle. I wiped away the blood and started wrapping his arm with gauze.

"It's a pretty strong opioid. Don't worry, it's a quarter dosage an adult would take."

Ezekiel nodded. He eventually laid his head on Epstein's lap, probably letting the drug work its very effective magic.

Epstein stroked the boy's back as he spoke, "Dr. Münch, what are the plans for this boy?"

I sighed, "I'm unsure. Fuhrmann only ordered me to 'take care of him'."

The older man eyed my collar patches reflecting my rank, "Ordered you...? Would you like me to give you a thorough head examination?"

I scoffed, "I believe he requires the examination more than I do."

**Location: Hell's Pass Hospital**

_**Stan's POV**_

"Kenny, Kyle looks better!"

I'm so relieved, Kyle's fever broke and he went back to well... a normal coma. He must be feeling good right now or something in that flashback. Kenny seemed happy too that Kyle was going to be all right.

"Mmphp mppmh. Mmmpgmm mpp."

"Well, I think next week is too soon. If they wake up before the project is due, I'm good."

Kenny looked at Cartman with something of a worried expression, "Mphh mphh..."

I shifted uncomfortably in my chair, not looking at Kenny, "C'mon, Cartman wouldn't actually let Kyle die! H-He probably just messing with him."

Kenny crossed his arms and looked at me, probably detecting my lie. While Kyle is the nerd of the group, there's no doubt Kenny knows and has seen some really crazy shit and knows more than he lets on. I sighed.

"I wish there was some way we can dive in and pull them out or something..."

Just then, Kenny ran past me, opened the window, and jumped out. I screamed and ran over to try and grab him but I was too late. I saw Kenny's twitching body on the pavement in a bloody mess. Like how I'm too slow to pull my friend back, I was too slow to stop my puke from ending up on the hospital floor. I frustratingly cried out to no one in particular as if on reflex.

"Oh my God! Kenny, you bastard! How could you leave me alone on this project?!"

* * *

**Notes from SEGAMew:**

Aaaand that's chapter 3! Most of it takes place in a hospital of some sort, how very fun. Probably not fun for Kyle though hehe.

In terms of historical accuracies, you know I try to be as close as I possibly can. There are things like certain interactions between staff prisoners and SS staff, including their personalities, that I took some creative licenses with. But I feel I did the best I could while keeping it interesting. I also type these while having a map of Auschwitz-Birkenau opened. I was also in the Navy for four years so some certain military etiquette may pop up here and there that might _not_ apply to the German Military or the SS. Sometimes there are things Google can't help with. I'll probably have to watch a few documentaries or something.

Hmm I wonder what will happen to Kyle and Cartman next? And poor Kenny has committed suicide! Or has he...? Post your predictions if you want in the comments!

**Translation Notes_**

_Herr _- It's like an honorific for Sir or Mister. Imagine if you are an anime enthusiast, it's the equivalent of -san. From my understanding, when you are addressing someone's title in terms of occupation, you would say it like Herr Dr. Münch.

_Gummibär _- Gummy bear! It's a German invented candy in case you didn't know, very popular too.

**Review Responses_**

_Marty: Glad you enjoyed Chapter 2~ I figured the best way to make this kind of story is by different point of views. Why stick to one perspective I say! As for Hans Münch, I thiiink you might be mistaking him for someone else... ;)

_Ari: Now that you read the next chapter, what do you think?

_Cster: Took a few days longer than planned, but the next chapter has arrived! What do you think?

_deathNspikes: Another fan of the POV format, yay! And I'll take your advice and do translation notes. Though, anyone can pop these phrases in Good translate so you don't have to scroll all the way down the page and lose your place!

_Lunar0: Thanks, I certainly hope I keep the POVs as accurate to their personalities as possible. Some chars are definitely harder to "role play" than others...

_Sarah: I know right!


	5. Chapter 5 - Abkommen

**Liebend****e ****Rückblende**

**By SEGAMew**

* * *

**Disclaimer: **

South Park and all related characters are property of Trey Parker and Matt Stone, because they are geniuses and I'm not.

Any historical persons that appear in this work of fiction are loosely based of their real life counterpart and possibly portrayed poorly. Reader discretion is advised.

There is no plans to include any OCs/FCs in this fanfiction. So don't worry if you're anti OC/FC. If there are to be any OC/FC, they will be only background characters with probably a few unmemorable lines.

* * *

**Last Time in ****Liebend****e ****Rückblende Ch. 4:**

Kyle learns that maybe not all SS are evil.

Stan learns that real bodies are affected by what happens to their flashback selves.

Cartman learns that Kyle probably has a cold or something.

Münch learns that he shouldn't feed a Jew grape products.

* * *

**Pairings**: Kyman (Kyle x Cartman) and others that will be revealed in later chapters (absolutely no fan pairings)

**Warnings**: M for harsh language and horrendous gratuitous acts of violence. No lemon/smut/stuff like that because I'm horrible at writing such things. There will be mild lime and adult situations however. I mean come on, it's a South Park fanfic!

* * *

**Chapter 5: Abkommen (Agreement)**

* * *

**Location: Stotch Residence**

_**Butter's POV**_

It's day two of us working on our history project and I think we are starting to get along. W-well, what I mean is... my group is starting to tolerate me. I can be a little bastard sometimes, always messing things up for everyone. Yesterday we argued over whose house we should work at. Gregory, he's the British one I reckon, suggested the Park County Library where we can have access to all the resources for free. But, well, Christophe, he's French I think, complained about how there's no smoking area in the library or something. They argued back and forth for most of the afternoon. DogPoo made a suggestion too but I don't remember what he suggested. I don't think anyone did.

Eventually I offered my house and they agreed that a neutral area is for the best, whatever that means. Unfortunately, it was almost curfew and I can't have any of my friends over, or I-I'll get grounded. So that's why we're all in my living room on day two working on our project. Our topic is on 9/11. No, not my birthday... Mr. Garrison will be awful sore with us if we did my birthday. We're actually doing that event in history where some people from the middle of the east or something flew into two towers in New York.

Just when I thought we are getting along, there's another confrontation... I will never understand the bad blood between British and French people.

"A Power Point is the best way to present our research to the class, Christophe. Just let me create it, Leopold can read off of it, and you can click through the slides."

I think DogPoo was about to say something, but Christophe interjected, "_Non!_ 'Ow dare you reduce _moi_ to ze position of clicker? I demand to 'ave equal reprezentation in our project, Gregory!"

I nervously rubbed my knuckles together, not making any eye contact, "W-well um... He can have my readin' spot..."

Gregory shook his head, "It's not wise to put a Frenchman in the front lines."

Christophe took an angry step towards Gregory. I quickly covered my eyes not wanting to see what might happen next. I didn't hear anything for ten seconds, and curiosity got the better of me so I lowered my hands from my eyes. The two are having a stare down. Why they sure look awful angry and stuff. I attempted to calm them down.

"H-hey fellas, no need to fight... We're all buddies, right?"

Christophe scoffed and turned away from Gregory. He took out a cigarette and lit it up. Oh hamburgers, he can't smoke in my living room! I frantically flailed my arms.

"H-hey! Could you take that um... outside, please? My parents will ground me if the livin' room smells all smokey like."

He blew smoke rings into my face, making me cough. Gosh that smells so bad! Why are people into lung cancer is beyond me... Christophe then walked out of the living room and I guess towards my backyard. I frowned. Day two is not much better than day one.

Gregory spoke, "There's a reason why he is called The Mole."

I looked down and bumped my knuckles, "Um... B-because he's a tactical fella who likes to uh... dig holes?"

"Oh, silly, Leopold."

He chuckled at me... or probably at my answer. He went and sat on the couch and opened up his laptop. Well now I'm all curious now. I sat on the couch next to him.

"Well... why is he called The Mole?"

"Because if you show up in the wrong place at the wrong time, you're an unsightly thing that needs to be surgically removed."

I don't really have a reply to that... it does seem like a terrible nickname for Christophe. I feel bad for him. Continuing to sit there, I listened to Gregory type away at his Power Point thingy. I stared at my feet while occasionally swinging them. It's sure boring letting one person do all the work in a group project...

I jumped to the sound of my iPhone. I r-really need to set the ringer lower... I got off the couch and ran into my backyard so as to not be rude while Gregory is working. Immediately I saw Gregory leaning against the house smoking. Judging from the amount of smoke butts on the ground, he's on his third one. Taking a mental note to talk with him later, I answered the phone.

"Hello?"

On the other side I heard Stan's voice. Gee that's odd, usually Eric is the one who calls me.

"Hey, man. Um so I'm the only one in my group who isn't in a coma. Since your group only has like three members, could I maybe join you guys just in case the others don't wake up soon?"

I gasped, "A coma? Oh hamburgers! W-why are they in a coma, Stan? Should I make a get well card?"

"Dude, calm down! I think they will be fine. I hope so anyway..."

I frowned, "Stan, you can't make a call like that, you're not a doctor!"

There was a small pause before Stan replied, "Actually, Butters, I became an honorary doctor when I was eight. Anyway it's cool for me to join your group, right?"

"I reckon so... It's really up to the other fellas but I'm sure they won't mind. If you don't mind me askin'... why are they in a coma?"

He sounds awful sore in his response, "Cartman has this stupid idea to have an adventure during the Holocaust times and dragged Kyle into it too. Kenny is probably with them too. The nerve of him leaving me by myself to work on our project too!"

"Ah, okay okay, Stan! Please don't pop a vein or somethin'! My parents will ground me for sure... I'll see if I can bring the group to you. Um... where are you?"

"Hell's Pass. You can ask the nurse to point you to our room."

"All right. See ya soon, Stan."

"Yeah, see ya."

I hanged up, then jumped when Christophe spoke. Oh hamburgers I forgot he was there!

"Who iz zat?"

"J-just Stan. He was calling and asking if he can join our group since his buddies are in a coma."

He flicked away his spent cigarette and proceeded to lit up another one. Now that's his fourth... He inhaled and blew out a stream of smelly smoke, thankfully not in my face this time.

"_Monsieur _Marsh? Figures ze most level headed one iz not rotting away on a God forsaken bed," He blew out another puff of smoke, "Why are zey in a coma?"

I rubbed my knuckles together, "Um... I 'spose to go on an slumberland adventure... during the Holocaust time."

Christophe went wide-eyed and coughed on his cigarette. Being the good buddy that I try to be, I pat his back. Almost immediately he scooted away from my hand before speaking.

"_L'Holocauste_? What kind of zick fuck would enjoy an adventure in zat?!"

**Location: Auschwitz II - Birkenau (Crematorium IV)**

_**Cartman's POV **_

Look at them. Just look at them. Disgusting filthy no good dirty Jews. They're the sole reason why Germany lost The Great War. The reason why Germany gets a lot of shit from the butt fucking Allies and the very reason why everyone but Jews are so fucking poor. It makes perfect sense that to reach the solution, the problem must be eliminated.

_"Ay! It's just a shower!"_

This is the reason why I fully supportmy Führer's_ Die Endlösung._

_"Move it!"_

The Final Solution_. _

_"Stop gawking!"_

I believe this is the right thing to do, for the good of everyone.

_"You can bang on the door all you want, I don't give a fuck!"_

I will stand by it to the end.

...

..

.

**Location: Hospital Barracks**

I returned here almost exactly twenty-four flashback hours to find him still sleeping. Oddly enough, he is lying on a bed this time. Probably buttMünch's doing. I remember all the beds were occupied and shit yesterday. Whatever, I sat on the end of the bed where Kyle laid. He looks better, whatever that asshole did for him. I'm totally right for picking him to throw Kyle into. Besides that smiling cheerful freak doctor, Mengele, buttMünch is the only other SS doctor that's sober. The SS like to party hardy and crap every night but that's not really my thing. I like to remember what I ate and did the previous night.

"... What are you doing here, fatass?"

I put on my most innocent face, batting my eyelashes. "Why, Kahl, I'm just checkin' up on you like a good friend would."

He clenched the thin blanket, "Cut the crap. What do you want?"

"If you must ask, I'm here for your answer to mah proposal yesterday."

Kyle stared, probably thinking about how to accept my offer. Then he spoke.

"$600, I'm not doing your homework, and I'm absolutely not sucking your disgusting balls."

"Ah, I'm afraid that's not going to work, Kahl. You're gonna have to do a lot better than that."

"Shit, Cartman! It's $600! It's all I have after that homeless thing!"

I grinned, "Is your life really worth $600? I mean to me it's worthless, but how much is it worth to you? More than $600?"

Kyle turned to lay on his side, pulling the thin sheets over his head, "Fuck you, Cartman. For all I know, you are lying about my physical body dying if I were to die here."

I traced the top edge on my peaked cap I held on my lap, "Yes... it would be difficult to convince you with mah words... you never did trust meh. Jews don't know what they want, always thinkin' they're right and are entitled to our wealth..."

"Dude, stop talking out of your ass and end this flashback. I'm sick and tired of playing your fucking games!"

The fuck, this Jewfag is really pissing me off! I crawled over and grabbed him by his collar, pulling him close to my face. It's taking a lot of willpower to stop me from strangling him.

"Oh, you think this is a fuckin' game, Kahl? Well newsflash, it's not! No one is winning a tank if they get the most points here! I'm not the fuckin' Game Master in Dungeons and Faggots! I believe said that yesterday. Maybe I used different words, but I highlighted the fact that I can't control anything in this. This is not one of those dreams where you have full control and shit! It's closer to Nightmare on Elm Street but with a higher budget!"

Well, I think that did it. The Jew looked shocked. Maybe he's feeling the aura of my Authoritah. He placed his hands on my fists but he didn't try to pry them off. He mumbled something but I didn't quite catch it.

"What was that, Kahl?"

He mumbled louder, "Sorry, Cartman."

Oooh yeah that feeling I get whenever he apologizes to me and basically admits I'm right. But Kyle needs to do it properly before I accept his apology.

"SS Scharführer Fuhrmann."

Kyle eyed me darkly, "I'm not fucking calling you that."

"It's for your own good, Kahl. You will not last twenty seconds out there if you don't acknowledge authoritah. They take authoritah very seriously. I may not beat you right away, but the others will. Then they'll kill you," I made a gesture of a gun and pointed towards him, "Pew pew, right in the back of your skull. I seen it happen."

Kyle stared at me, probably weighing his options. Jews are good at weighing stuff like gold pieces on scales, so it's probably second nature for him. After a while he sighed and looked at me with those serious green eyes of his.

"I'm sorry... SS Scharführer Fuhrmann."

"See, that wasn't so hard, now was it, Kahl?"

"Don't get used to it."

I let go of his collar and he lied back down, facing away from me.

"What are the conditions of ending this flashback?"

"Conditions? Well, Kahl, if you must know..."

"Of course I want to know!"

"If it works like last time... we have to learn somethin' big."

"... Big?"

"Yeah like, affects our lives or something when we learn it. Not those silly daily lessons that we learned that day and crap. Remember that one time? I learned something so big, when I shared the knowledge of what I learned, South Park is saved."

The Jew covered his head again with the sheet, "Dude, for real? Fuck..."

I shrugged, "Yeah, tell me about it. I learned that the Jews are the reason Germany is fucked up, but I'm still here. Guess we have to search harder for the life changin' lesson."

"You asshole, my people are not the reason why Germany is messed up!"

I reached over and pulled the sheet off of his head. I gritted my teeth in anger, "What the hell do you know, you never lived in Germany to see firsthand what the Jews are capable of!"

He scoffed, "And suddenly you're a expert on the subject of Germany's economical decline? The only thing you're an expert of is fucking people over."

I reached down and grabbed his bad forearm, then I forced it above his head on his pillow and squeezed tightly. The Jew scum cried out and tried to pull his arm away but I held firm. With my other hand, I grabbed a chunk of his Ginger hair and kept his head against his pillow. Finally, I kneed his gut, earning me gasps of pain and coughing. I had every right to knee him in the fucking balls, but I have my pride. I would rather not stoop to Jew levels.

"You need to work on respectin' mah authoritah. I advise you learn quickly."

He finally caught his breath and glared at me with his defiant Jew eyes. It's going to take a long time to break him but I like a challenge.

"$1000, and you can't call me degrading names nor fight me. Final offer. "

He frowned and sighed, "Why..."

I rolled my eyes, "Duh, Kahl, I like lots and lots of money. I like it more than you value your stupid little Jew life it seems."

He went back to glaring. "No, fatass! Why can't you just help me as a _friend?!_"

I smirked. It's about that, eh? I ran my fingers through his gingerly red hair, gazing into his green eyes with my half lidded hazel ones.

"Oh, Kahl. What possible benefit would I gain by being your friend...?"

I gripped his Jew curls fiercely causing him to cry out and shut his eyes. I said the following quietly into his ear.

"...There is no fuckin' way I'll ever be friends with a motherfuckin' backstabbin' Jew."

I let go of his hair and arm and removed myself off the bed. I straightened out my uniform and picked up my peaked cap from the bed. I was dusting off my cap when he spoke.

"I'll... I'll give you it... The $1000."

I smiled, "Sweet. Good choice, Kahl. I was plannin' on throwin' you in the ditch where your big fat bitch of a mom was buried yesterday if you didn't accept mah offer."

Kyle's face went from pretty neutral to flatout angry, gripping his sheets and sitting upright.

"M-Mom?! You killed my Mom?!"

I waved him off with a hand, not really fearing his outburst due to our agreement, "Chill, dude. None of these people are real."

The angry expression disappeared as soon as it appeared. He laid back down, looking off to the side, "I-I... but they seem so..."

"Well, I did say it's like Nightmare on Elm street with a higher budget. Better special effects, stages, actors, and directed by James Cameron."

There was a brief pause before the Jew spoke again, "W-what... what about Ike?"

I sat on his bed and grabbed his hair, forcing him to look at me. I put on my most serious face that I felt like mustering.

"Jesus fuckin' Christ, Kahl. _They _are not real. You wanna know what is?," I placed the palm of my free hand on my chest, "_Meh_."

Kyle looked away from me, not really saying anything. Whatever, I removed my hand from his head and started to walk out. I returned my cap to my head. I was just about to turn the knob and exit when the Jew finally spoke.

"Hey, dude?"

I stopped and turned, "What?"

He smiled, "Thanks."

I returned my attention to the the knob and opened the door and stepped out. Arg, something is nagging me at the back of my head. Before fully closing the door, I stuck my head back in to see Kyle still sitting up and looking at me. I didn't make eye contact when I spoke. Well, more like shouted.

"Whatever, Kahl! Fuck you!"

Then I shut the door. There, much better.

**Location: Auschwitz II - Birkenau (Near Crematorium II)**

_**Kenny's POV **_

Ooogh... Next time, I'm just going to ask for induced coma injections. Where am I? Ack, what the hell am I wearing?! Striped pajamas? A little too big for me too. I'm not wearing any underwear either under these pants...

I walked forward a little before noticing that my footwear sucks. Is it made out of wood or something? No socks either...

"Hey, _Scheißkerl! _How dare you steal food from the kitchen?!"

... What? I looked down and patted my pockets. Sure enough, I had a few wrapped chocolate bars. I don't really recognize the brand though. Well this is great, I just woke up and already I'm in fucking trouble. I was just about to apologize when the asshole in uniform slammed me against the wall of a building and struck the side of my face with a club of some sort. He got two hard hits in when someone called out to him.

"Ay! What's going on over there? Another little asshole Jew needs to be taught a lesson?"

My assailant pulled me away from the wall and roughly held me by the arm as if to show me to the other person. I was holding my head and shutting my eyes due to the massive headache that's coming right for me, so I didn't see the other guy. My captor spoke.

"I caught this little rat stealing from the kitchen."

There was a pause before the other guy responded.

"Stealin', eh? Unacceptable. We feed these fuckin' Jews three times a day and they decided to be greedy little bastards and steal from the mouths that feed them."

The other guy caught me by surprised. He grabbed my shirt and threw me to the ground hard. I tried to get up but a boot stepped on my head and kept me down. Seriously what the fuck is up with these lunatics?! It's just candy bars!

The guy who wasn't my assailant spoke, "What did he steal exactly?"

"Three chocolate bars."

"Three you saaaaay? All right, go to the nearest working detail you can find, pick out three prisoners, and use them as an example of what happens to fuckin' thievin' rats."

"_Jawohl, _Scharführer!"

I heard him leave. After the footsteps died down, the boot that was on my head removed itself. I shook my head and gazed up, realizing who was my 'savior.' He crossed his arms and gave me an annoyed look.

"Kinny, dude, you have ten seconds to explain yourself. I'm not in the mood for games."

I rubbed my tender face where I was struck earlier. I did my best to flash a smile.

"Busting ya out of this joint."

He slapped his forehead, "God. Dammit. Kinny."

"Aw come on, man, at least act like yer happy ta see me."

"If you haven't noticed, you are the one wearin' the prisoner smock, not meh. You're not busting meh out of anything."

I looked down at my outfit, "Oh yah I guess yer right. Imagine that."

Cartman paced back and forth, thinking about something or another. I think I heard him mumbling something too. I watched him curiously. Suddenly I remembered I have chocolate bars in my pocket. I took a bar out and opened it. Before I took a bite, that fatass ran over and grabbed it right out of my hands.

"Prisoners can't have fuckin' contraband. Gimme your other ones too."

I pouted as I gave him the others, "Aw, dude, c'mon! I got slugged in the face, I deserve a little chocolate fer pain killing purposes."  
"You'll be fine. C'mon, follow me."

He walked off and I follow, still rubbing my sore face. We stopped by some guy in uniform in a small shack. I guess he's some sort of security or gate guard? Cartman spoke with him, then passed him and continued on. Eventually we entered a building and he shut the door. It kinda looks like a storage shed. It's mostly shovels, axes, rope, a few wheelbarrows, and something that kinda looked like paint cans under some tarp. Cartman looked around probably making sure we're the only ones in this storage room, than sat on the tarp covering the paint cans. He rested his chin on his hand, and that elbow is resting on his knee. With his other hand, he tapped his index finger on his other knee.

"What the hell do I do with you, Kinny?"

I shrugged, "Dunno, but I ain't going back without ya and Kyle."

"None of us are goin' back unless we all learn somethin' important, so flush out that prison break idea of your's."

I shoved my hands in my pockets and kicked the dirt, "What's ta learn? I think everything that happened in this time period is straightforward, ya know? Adolf Hitler was PMSing like a chick and killed a buncha people. I totally get th-"

Something hard slammed hard against the back of my head and I ended up on the ground. It's true when they say stars spinning before your eyes. Beyond the stars I saw a quickly fading image of Cartman holding a bloody shovel (strangely enough, the blood is not dripping wet or anything). Before passing out, he spoke. He never sounded this serious nor this unkind to me before.

"Speak that way about the Führer in that way again, so help me, God, I _will_ kill you, Kinny."

* * *

**Notes from SEGAMew_**

Wow what a character packed chapter! We got to see a little of Team Gregory (well more like Butters), some Cartman and Kyle, and Kenny. You all probably noticed I made Kenny talk a little more ghetto. Hopefully that makes it easier to tell who's talking. Can't have everyone talk the same!

Hmmm wonder what's gonna happen next? Any predictions? :) Expect more Buttery goodness next chapter!

**Replies to Reviewers_**

_Lunar0: Yep, Kenny is joining the party!

_Marty: Finally noticed the four characters mentioned in the story description I see? Hmmm yes perhaps Butters and Christophe will play some important roles ;)

_Ari: Thanks! Things between Cartman and Kyle will sure get interesting soon :)

_Cster: Ah yes, let's see how Cartman will develope over this fanfic~

_deathNspikes: Yeah I make sure it comes out right in Google Translate at least. Though then again I suppose there people who still use Babelfish like it's still 1996 =P

_ .37: Oh come on you totally like this! =p

**Translation Notes_**

_Die Endlösung _- The Final Solution. It's Nazi Germany's plan to exterminate all people, primarily Jews, that inhabit Europe. You can search on Wikipedia if you like a more detailed explanation.

_Jawohl_ - Equivilant to a 'Yessir!', 'Aye aye!' or other strong yes affirmations.

_Scheißkerl_ - Motherfucker, bastard, son of a bitch, etc.

_Variety of French words from Christophe _- Every French word in this chapter is common stereotypical French words that most people should know.


	6. Chapter 6 - Gruß

**Liebend****e ****Rückblende**

**By SEGAMew**

* * *

**Disclaimer: **

South Park and all related characters are property of Trey Parker and Matt Stone, because they are geniuses and I'm not.

Any historical persons that appear in this work of fiction are loosely based of their real life counterpart and possibly portrayed poorly. Reader discretion is advised.

There is no plans to include any OCs/FCs in this fanfiction. So don't worry if you're anti OC/FC. If there are to be any OC/FC, they will be only background characters with probably a few unmemorable lines.

* * *

**Last Time in ****Liebend****e ****Rückblende Ch. 5:**

Butters learns that Christophe is called _ze Mole_ "because if you show up in the wrong place at the wrong time, you're an unsightly thing that needs to be surgically removed."

Cartman learns that Kyle doesn't value his life more than money.

Kyle learns that Cartman is real, unlike everyone else in the flashback.

Kenny learns that Cartman's hot button is insulting his Führer, Adolf Hitler.

* * *

**Pairings**: Kyman (Kyle x Cartman) and others that will be revealed in later chapters (absolutely no fan pairings)

**Warnings**: M for harsh language and horrendous gratuitous acts of violence. No lemon/smut/stuff like that because I'm horrible at writing such things. There will be mild lime and adult situations however. I mean come on, it's a South Park fanfic!

* * *

**Chapter 6: Gruß (Greetings)**

* * *

**Location: Auschwitz II - Birkenau (Hospital Barracks)**

_**Kyle's POV **_

The next time I 'woke up', it was dark outside. I'm not sure if it's still the same day as when Cartman visited me. It's a huge headache trying to track the time in this damn Holocaust simulation. It's not like I can type in a macro command that tells me the time or something like it's World of Warcraft. Speaking of, it would be sweet if I could log out of here. But nope, like some cliche anime, I'm fucking stuck here.

I crawled out of bed and explored the room. I avoided the other patients, I don't like to see them in such a pitiful state. Most of them look like literal living corpses, zombie-like with their groaning and bony bodies. It's a miracle I was able to sleep knowing I'm probably near dead people.

This is a hospital or something right? Shouldn't there be nurses or doctors or something on duty? The wrap around my injured arm is due for a change. Something to eat would be nice too. I looked towards the door I saw Cartman exited out of. I probably shouldn't think about sneaking out, who knows what would happen. I did unintentionally created a scene out there so the SS probably wants my head on a platter, especially the one I slugged.

I was standing by the counter with all the medical cabinets and stuff when the door opened, causing me to jolt in surprise. Stepping in was a man clad in the SS uniform and a white lab coat. I relaxed when I recognized him after he removed his cap. He greeted me with a warm, mustached smile.

"Ah, hello, Ezekiel. How are you feeling?"

I placed a hand on my stomach, "Kinda hungry..."

Ugh, that came out embarrassing. Well I mean, yeah it's perfectly normal to say it around friends and family, but saying it to someone affiliated with the Nazi Party is downright awkward. I looked away hoping that he didn't noticed me blushing in embarrassment. He walked over to me and placed a hand on my shoulder, causing me to look up at him curiously. He placed his other hand on my forehead. He removed his hands and spoke.

"Just hungry then? Well..." He put a hand in his white coat pocket, "I have a piece of sausage, but I'm unsure if it's pork based or not."

"Eh... I'm sorry, but do you have anything else?"

It's not that I care right now if I'm eating something potentially not kosher, I don't want a piece of sausage from a Nazi's pocket... Ugh, that sounds wrong! I looked away again when I felt the blood rushing to my face.

He frowned, "I'm afraid I don't. I came straight from the Institute."

"Um... The Institute?"

The SS waved a hand, "It's nothing you have to worry about."

He walked back to the door, opened it, and look around outside. Is he looking for someone? Wait, what is this SS doctor's name? Has he ever told me? I got on top of my bed to sit down, then spoke out to him.

"What's your name, mister?"

He looked back towards me and smiled, "Ah, you probably don't remember. You were a little delirious yesterday."

So it only has been a day in Holocaust time... I felt a little bad that I couldn't remember his name though.

"It's quite alright I prefer proper introductions. I am Dr. Hans Münch, rank _SS-Unterstu-_ I mean, I'm a bacteriologist."

I raised an eyebrow, "You study... bacteria?"

"Hah well, you could say that. I won a competition one time and it sort of... stuck."

"Oh..."

Dr. Münch heard something and spun around. He looks like he's talking to someone, another SS. After a few exchanges, he closed the door and walked back to me. Pulling up a chair, he sat down, crossed his legs, and resumed speaking with me.

"Anything else you wish to know about me, little Ezekiel?"

Yeah, there is one thing that definitely bothers me.

"Please don't be offended when I ask this, but you're a Nazi, right?"

He replied back nonchalantly as if I asked him what was his favorite color.

"I've been affiliated with the Nazi Party for roughly ten years. I believe that's enough to classify me as a Nazi."

My jaw dropped, "T-ten years?! How old are you?!"

He looked up in thought, "Hmm... I had my 33rd birthday last month... no celebration parties of course."

"Last month? Um..." I realized I have no idea what this month was. Thankfully he told me in a way.

"Yes, May 14th."

"Oh wow, my birthday is May 26th!"

I have no idea why I felt impressed that our birthdays are close to each other. Yet another awkward moment for me. Dr. Münch smiled and petted my head

"Is that so? Would you like to tell me more about you, Ezekiel?"

Well shit, what do I say? I like to play basketball, listen to rap music, and hang out with my super best friend, Stan? I decided to say general things that come to mind.

"I'm ten years old, do well in school, my blood type is AB-, and like to spend time with my friends and fami-"

I went wide-eyed and covered my mouth with my hand, a sudden wave of sadness hit me. I clenched my eyes shut trying to resist the urge to puke. Dr. Münch calmed me by stroking my back. I lowered my hand and sighed. The SS doctor spoke softly.

"My condolences. If I could make a difference in the selection process..."

I looked at him, his solemn expression, his uniform, he's kinda... weird.

"Dr. Münch, you're not some double agent or something, are you?"

He pointed at himself with a confused look on his face, "_Doppelagent..._?"

"It's just you know... you're a Nazi but you're so kind to me, a Jewish boy."

The doctor chuckled. He got off his chair, removed his white coat and set it on the chair. He retrieved his peaked cap and placed it on his head, then stood in front of me showing himself off in his SS attire, sans the white coat.

"SS-Untersturmführer Münch, should he be different from Dr. Hans Münch because he holds a Waffen-SS rank?"

I couldn't help but smile, "Okay okay, you made your point. Are there other nice SS like you? I mean...you know... Nice to my people..."

A knock came from the door. Dr. Münch went up to answer it. I think I heard him say '_dank'_ or something before closing the door. He hanged up his peaked cap and returned to sit on the chair besides me. He handed me a paper bag full of something.

"Hopefully that junior SS retrieved something edible. I'm usually at the Institute but even I know how... tasteless some of the food here can be."

He mentioned the 'Institute' again. Wonder where that is? I reached into the bag and pulled out two pieces of bread and a packet of... some sort of butter. I held the bag upside and shake, making sure that's all the contents.

"No knife? I guess it's fine..."

"Sorry, I suppose it makes sense if they want to reduce the number of..."

The doctor didn't have to complete his sentence in order for me to figure out what he meant. Anywhere is better than this hell hole. I opened the butter packet and tried to spread it onto my stale bread. I winced from the pain in my left arm. Damn fatass.

"Here, let me help with that."

I watched him prepare my butter sandwich for me. Even though he made his point earlier, it still looks pretty weird. A full blown SS spreading a Jewish boy's bread. That's more weirder than a friendship between a snake and a hamster. Is it possible for an SS to befriend a Jew? He handed me my 'sandwich' after finishing. I took a bite. Plain even with this strange butter... better than starving to death I guess. While eating, Dr. Münch went to examine the other patients/corpses in the room. I almost forgot that they were there. Interacting with Dr. Münch is a good distraction. A very positive one. When he returned to my bed, I had already finished my sandwich. He came with a first aid kit of sorts. He was changing out the gauze on my left arm when I decided to start up a new conversation.

"So um... what will happen after I get released from here?"

He continued applying the fresh new gauze while replying, "I imagine that you will share the knowledge you acquired and tell the horrors you experienced while in this camp..."

"What? No! I mean after I get released from the hospital!"

The doctor laughed, "Oh! Sorry, imagining a little too far out. I encountered Scharführer Fuhrmann earlier and he mentioned something about assigning you to a working party in the morning. Told me to check up on you as well actually."

A thought occurred to me. With Dr. Münch's white coat off, I can see his collar decoration more clearly. It's definitely a little more ornate that fatass's.

"Doctor, I don't claim to fully know how the military structure works here, but aren't you higher in rank than Cart-Fuhrmann?"

"I am indeed."

"Then why are you following his orders?"

He smirked. That's an odd look for him combined with that mustache, "I'm not following his orders per se. I merely am doing what I would do. If he was commanding me to execute you, I would simply refuse, regardless of his rank."

"Oh..."

The doctor stood up and put his coat back on, "I best be returning to my quarters. ."

I nodded and watched him get his cap. Before exiting, he looked back towards me. Instead of his usual kind expression, he had a more serious one.

"There are other kind SS men in this camp, but I do not know of their specific... political views," his smile returned, "Take care, Ezekiel."

I returned the smile and nodded, "Thanks, Dr. Münch."

**Location: Auschwitz II - Birkenau (In a storage shed near Crematorium II)**

_**Cartman's POV **_

God dammit, how long is Kenny going to sleep?! What an asshole! Making me constantly check up on him throughout the day to see if he woke up. All I did was tap him and he's out like a light. Okay maybe it was a little more than a tap, but his dumb ass deserved it!

Well, at least I was able to meet with buttMünch earlier while performing my various duties and not watching Kenny snooze. Told him to let the dumb Jew know that I expect him to work in the morning, regardless of whether or not his arm heals by then.

"...ugh...my fucking head..."

I 'lightly' kick him on his head, "You deserved it, you poor asshole!"

Kenny sat up and rubbed the back of his head, "The fuck, dude?! What the hell did I do?!"

I picked up the same shovel I hit him with, "Need a reminder, mah dear friend, Kinny?"

"Nah, I'm good," He stood up and dusted his clothes, "Sooo... how the hell do ya get outta here?"

I growled, growing impatient, "Forget it, you can't force mah flashback to end because you want it too."

Kenny rubbed his chin looking like he's deep in thought, "Hm..."

"What are you 'hm'ing about?"

He looked up towards me, chin still resting on his fingers, "We're in Germany, yah?"

I rolled my eyes, "We're in fucking Poland."

"Oh right right...Auschwitz is in Poland," he grinned, "Polish real estate is cheaper fer the Führer, am I right?"

I gritted my teeth, "Wanna know what's cheaper than a traditional burial style funeral?" I glanced behind me briefly before looking back at Kenny darkly, "Cremation."

Kenny put up his hands in one of those 'hold up' gesture, "Geez, man! Okay I get it, jabs at Hitler are off limits," he put his hands down, "What now then? Am I going ta play the role of some Jewish prisoner like Kyle is or something?"

"You didn't come with mental instructions of who your flashback self is supposed to be?"

The blonde shrugged, "I dunno, was I supposed ta?"

"Not every time, but it makes it easier to blend in since you have background info that you can recall and shit. As you probably noticed by now, I pulled the longest straw."

"Well hold on, let me conjure up some memories I don't usually have."

Kenny placed the tips of his fingers to the side of his head and made the most stupidest face ever. Still, I couldn't help but laugh.

"You're such a dork, Kinny."

"Yeah I feel like it too, dude. Anyway no hidden memories here... but..." He pointed to the upside-down black triangle next to his inmate number on his left front shirt pocket, "I remember seeing on Wikipedia that Jews get something that looks like their Star of David. What does my black triangle mean?"

I stood up from my makeshift 'seat' on the tarp pile, "It means you're a prostitute or drug addict or somethin'. It's basically the 'other' category. Anyway follow meh, I'm gonna put you to work like everyone else."

He laughed, "Haha, work? How's the pay?"

"Pay? You work until you fuckin' die, you poor asshole!"

Kenny stuck his tongue at me, "Well great, maybe I can wake up after I die then!"

I shook my head, "I forgot to tell you, if you die here, your real body dies too."

"Actually, I already know that."

Kenny crossed his arms and looked at me with a serious expression. He went from dork to serious business in no time. He spoke with a less than friendly tone.

"Ya know, me and Stan were watching everything that goes on in here on a fancy monitor that broadcasts dreams between people."

My jaw dropped, "The fuck?! That's gotta break some invasion of privacy laws!"

Kenny waved an index finger, "Actually, no it doesn't. Stan called upon his status as Kyle's Super Best Friend ta sign a disclosure document fer allowing this experimental machine ta be used on him fer research."

"What the fuck?! Did you signed the papers for meh then, Kinny?!"

"I didn't have ta, yer Mom designated Stan as yer 'Best Friend' if she were ta not be present fer any important decisions regarding ya," he then glared at me angrily, "Plus, I discontinued our best friend status after ya nearly got me killed on the fucking NASCAR track!"

I waved off his attempts to phase me, "Whatever, Kinny. It's not like you haven't died before."

Kenny faltered, as expected, "W-what?"

"I've been thinkin' about assigning you to one of the _Sonderkommando_ units."

"The goingcommandowhatsis?"

I grinned, "Oh yeah, Kinny, it's a super kewl job. In exchange for being treated a little better and not living in the stables, all you have to do is loot the dead."

"Uh... loot like in World of Warcraft?"

"Yeeeeah, Kinny. And the best part is, no stupid ass Allies to gank you while you collect your spoils, then fuckin' t-bags you and-"

Kenny waved a hand in front of my face, "Huh? Dude, we play the Alliance faction, remember?"

I blinked, slowly realizing what I just said. I shook my head to clear up exactly which 'game' I'm playing right now.

"Yeah, whatever, Kinny! I was just testin' you! It's been a long ass time since we played together you know..."

"I guess, dude. Okay, tell me what do I do around here."

"Follow me. Let me do all the talkin'. Keep your trap shut unless spoken to, got it?"

"Like Crystal Pepsi. Oh, one more thing."

"What?"

"What you've been doing ta Kyle is super weak. Cut him some slack, will ya?"

"Fuck you."

I led him out of the storage shed and headed towards Crematorium II. Other than the obvious rooms used for cooking Jews, there's a housing area reserved only for the Sonderkommando in the attic area of the Crematorium. We don't let them mingle with the normal prisoner population so the 'secrets' of how things work in the crematoriums are kept on the down low. Well, that's what the upper chain of command tells us. I think it's pretty fucking obvious we're cooking the fucking Jews in here. You know the irony of it all? Jews are primarily selected to become Sonderkommandos and they're the one doing all the Jew cooking.

My room is also here, it's actually a private quarters and not an open bay styled barracks. There is a small SS barracks room next to mine for SS staff assigned to working the Crematoriums. I'm just so super awesome that I got my own private room. Anyway I planned to have Kenny work with these guys so I can keep an eye on him. He can be a sneaky asshole.

Expectantly, I saw a Jewish prisoner wearing a white lab coat smoking a cigarette nearby the housing area side attached to the Crematorium. Who does he think he is, smoking like he doesn't give a shit?!

I run up to the smoking prisoner, "Ay! Who says you can smoke?!"

The prisoner in the white coat lowered his cigarette and sighed. I can see his breath in the chilly evening.

"The same person who gave me the authorization to wear civilian clothes and my wristwatch."

He flashed me his gold watch on his wrist as if to emphasize his point. What a fucking dick!

"I suggest you respect mah authoritah, Mr. I-don't-give-a-fuck."

He took a drag from his cig, "Prisoner A8450, but I prefer Dr. Nyiszli."

Kenny whispered into my ear, "Hey, this guy is cool."

I slapped Kenny's shoulder to shut him up and turned my attention back to Dr. Nutsack.

"Where's the supervising chief of this Sonderkommando?"

He put out his cig and checked his watch, "SS-Oberscharführer Muhsfeldt is... currently making his rounds," He looked back at me, "May I ask, what business do you have with him?"

I stepped aside, revealing Kenny to him, "I'm assignin' this one to your unit."

The doctor frowned, "But... Isn't he a little young?"

"Trust me, he'll do anythin'. You see this black triangle?" I pointed to his black trangle, "This means he's so hardcore, they didn't know what color badge to give him so they mixed all the colors together and made his triangle black as fuck."

The doctor stood up from where he was sitting on the ground and walked around Kenny. Probably measuring his hardcore levels or something. The Jew doctor eyed him from head to toe.

"Forgive me for questioning your 'authoritah,' but aren't Sonderkommando units reserved for Jewish prisoners who are adult men?"

"Ay! What exactly is so hard about cookin' Jews in an oven that only adult men can do it?!"

"_You_ of all people should know that is not all that the Sonderkommando do."

I glared at the doctor. He's seriously pissing me off. I grabbed Kenny's arm and pull him towards the dick.

"You know what, I don't have time for this. Take him and explain to your chief that Scharführer Fuhrmann left him under your care."

"Excuse me?"

I crossed my arms, "That's an order. Take care of him."

I walked away before he can start another lame ass argument with me. I need to relax in my quarters, babysitting Kyle and Kenny is tiring as fuck. If Stan decides to show up next, I'll probably throw him in one of those ovens.

_**Kenny's POV **_

Well, that could have gone smoother. I stepped back from the guy who says he's a doctor. Nyiszli I think? If I were to describe his appearance, he looks pretty worn out, and balding a little. He's a prisoner, right? Why would they employ a prisoner as a doctor? Don't they have a ton of Nazi doctors? My train of thought was broken when he spoke to me.

"Sorry you had to see me less than professional. I...had a very stressful week. My name is Dr. Miklós Nyiszli. And you are?"

Well shit, my name? Kenny McCormick sounds out of place. I scratched my head and laughed awkwardly.

"Uh ya know what, I don't remember, hehehe... I must have amnesia or something?"

The doctor placed his hands on the sides of my head and tilted my head so I'm looking at him, "Amnesia you say?"

"Yah, some asshole hit me with a shovel earlier today."

He let go of me, "Hmm... Perhaps your memory will return with time then. For now, what would you like to be called?"

"Eh... Um... Let's go with Konrad? That's a perfectly normal German name, yah?"

The doctor gave me a confused look. Shit, did I say something wrong?

"Do you not remember what country you hail from either?"

"Um... I'm an Aryan?"

The doctor shook his head, "Amnesiac and brainwashed..."

"Hey ah... Ya know what? I'm starting ta remember a little... I think my name is Kenneth."

The doctor nodded and motioned me towards the entrance of the building in front of us, "Pleased to meet you, Kenneth. Let's go inside and I'll introduce you to unit 12 of the Sonderkommando."

"I followed, "Okay. Oh and actually, just call me Kenny."

* * *

**Notes from SEGAMew_**

And that is the end of chapter six! Can't believe we're still in the introduction stages. I mean sure we can skip all the introductions, but then I can't pad out this story to make it seem super long and awesome =P Just kidding. I bet you are just wanting some Kyman action right now. I promise Kyman is coming! Sooner than the dragons!

Leave your reviews, comments, complaints, suggestions, ASCII images, predictions, etc! They make great motivators :)

**Translation Notes_**

_Doppelagent_ - German word for double agent. Dr. Münch was confused about why would Kyle ask if he's a double agent. I like to emphasize this moment of confusion by asking back in his native German :)

_Dank _- Thanks

_Sonderkommando _- They are basically the group of appointed Jew prisoners in charge of dragging out the gassed bodies from the gas chambers, remove all valuables still on them like jewelry, gold teeth implants, hair, etc. Then cremate them afterwards. There's a whole Wikipedia article on it. There is something called an SS-Sonderkommando which is an actual position held by the SS.

_Regarding SS ranks _- These definitely can be looked up on Google faster than I can explain it. I like to imagine them personally by assigning "paygrade" equivalents. Since ranks are named differently between the branches of military, and no one understands my Navy ranks and I hardly understand the ranks of Army, Airforce, and Marines, I just lump everyone into paygrades.

Cartman would be an E-5 (noncommissioned officer) and Dr. Münch would be an O-1 (commissioned officer). Or if I just further confused you, Cartman is like a Staff Sargeant and Dr. Münch is a 2nd Lieutenant. For all you Navy/Coast Guard folks, Cartman is a Petty Officer 2nd Class and Dr. Münch would be an Ensign.

**Review Responses_**

_Marty - Yes, I am so very clever using ze Mole for easing you into Cartman's POV :) I hope you enjoy Cartman's interactions with Kenny in this chapter~

_Ari - Great! Hope you love this chapter too

_deathNspikes - Hope you enjoy some of the Kenny goodness that's in this chapter. Sadly Butters's group didn't make the cut for this chapter, but they definitely will in the next ;)

_Lunar0 - That Kenny is full of surprises :)

_symphknot - Thanks n.n~


	7. Chapter 7 - Morgen

**Liebend****e ****Rückblende**

**By SEGAMew**

* * *

**Disclaimer: **

South Park and all related characters are property of Trey Parker and Matt Stone, because they are geniuses and I'm not.

Any historical persons that appear in this work of fiction are loosely based of their real life counterpart and possibly portrayed poorly. Reader discretion is advised.

There is no plans to include any OCs/FCs in this fanfiction. So don't worry if you're anti OC/FC. If there are to be any OC/FC, they will be only background characters with probably a few unmemorable lines.

* * *

**Last Time in ****Liebend****e ****Rückblende Ch. 6:**

Kyle learns that nice SS exists.

Dr. Münch learns that Kyle's blood type is the extremely rare AB-.

Cartman learns that Kenny has no flashback memories to reference back to.

Kenny learns that his black triangle badge makes him hardcore (according to Cartman).

**Pairings**: Kyman (Kyle x Cartman) and others that will be revealed in later chapters (absolutely no fan pairings)

**Warnings**: M for harsh language and horrendous gratuitous acts of violence. No lemon/smut/stuff like that because I'm horrible at writing such things. There will be mild lime and adult situations however. I mean come on, it's a South Park fanfic!

* * *

**Chapter 7: Morgen (Morning)**

* * *

**Location: Auschwitz II - Birkenau (His Private SS Quarters located in Crematorium II****)**

_**Cartman's POV **_

_(Time: 02:30 the following morning after the end of the last chapter)_

Ring.

Ring..

Ring...

**RINGRINGRINGRING**

I reached out from my bed and slammed the annoying as fuck alarm clock against the wall. Why can't fucking alarm clocks ever sound not annoying as fuck? Christ... I got off my bed and headed for the washroom. It's so inconvenient, the washroom is the next to my room on my right (the SS barracks is next door to my room on the left). I entered and pushed a small crate in front of the sink, stepped up, and commence my morning rituals. While brushing my teeth, I looked at myself in the mirror. Ugh, fucking bags under my eyes. I didn't get to sleep until late last night due to the Kenny situation. The asshole couldn't wake up earlier and I couldn't just leave him like that. Of course it would be easier to leave him but...well I couldn't leave him, alright?

I splashed water onto my face and rubbed the sleep out of my eyes. I hated the smell and feel of this water, I'm used to the water out of my faucet in South Park, it's all filtered and stuff. The water here just smells kinda like pond or something. Not Stark's Pond-like either.

I combed my hair neatly and returned to my room. I put on my uniform while checking myself on the wall mirror. I didn't bother ironing them last night, but they look fine. Whatever. I ate a light breakfast consisting of some soup, sausage, and buttered toast. Downed all that with a cup of the nonMountain Spring tasting water from the tap. I coughed, then wiped my mouth with my sleeve. Afterwards, I tossed my cup and plate in a bucket (I use this to store my used kitchenware so I can exchange it for a new set in the kitchen), grabbed my peaked cap on my nightstand, and left my room.

I was wonderfully greeted by the freezing ass cold Poland air as I stepped out from Crematorium II. Even during the summer, the nights are cold as fuck. The chilly air tickled my chest, causing me to cough in my hand. I pulled my sleeve back to check my watch. It reads 3:10 am. Morning roll call is at 4:30 am so I have like over an hour to get the Jewfag ready.

I traveled down the path towards the guard shack at the entrance of Camp F. After checking in, I headed towards the hospital barracks. Upon entering, I placed my peaked cap on the rack. The interior is lit only by the skylight panels on the ceiling. Well it's night time now so actually, the only thing lighting up the place is moonlight and watchtower searchlights. Even so, it's not hard to spot the Jew's green headgear. Why does that fag sleep with it on, seriously? I don't sleep with my cap on, fuck that. I walked over to his bed and thought about the best way to wake his ass up. Maybe pull on his faggy Jewfro. I slipped my fingers under the side of his hat but for some reason, instead of gripping it, I run my fingers deeper into his curls. It has a sort of springy feel when you push down. Wait, why am I fascinated by his fucking hair? With my other hand, I touched my own straight hair. I know my hair is awesome as hell, but even I can be bored of it at times. I had highlights in my hair and spiked it up one time. I really liked it but it's a bitch maintaining that look so I stopped after a week. I pulled is hat off, it's amazing how much of his hair stays 100% hidden under it. What's more amazing is how he didn't wake up, it's not like I took his hat off gently or anything. I stroked his hair some more before glancing at my watch, which reads 3:35 now. I yawned and sit myself at the end of his bed lying down with my lower legs dangling off. I need a quick power nap, it's too fucking early and the dumb Jew doesn't need more than five minutes to get ready. I put the green hat I was still holding under my head and closed my eyes. The dumb thing even smells like the Jew.

**Location: Hell's Pass Hospital**

_**Christophe's POV **_

I made a point to ignore Monsieur Gregory until he apologizes for that remark about the people of my country. We are a proud nation but God selected us to be the butt of all his sick jokes. 'The French are cowards.' 'The French fight only on the sidelines.' 'The French smoke a lot.' 'The French are rude, selfish people.' The nerve of these stereotypes written by that asshole called God! This is why everyone are bitches, God's bitches for they follow his decree and believe anything he says.

My joke of a group are walking down the hallways of Hell's Pass Hospital to visit the ugly fat one, the one in constant poverty, and the unfortunate Jewish one who are all apparently in a coma. I personally don't care enough to learn what their names are, especially the ugly fat one. Something in the back of my mind tells me that he is one you absolutely can't depend on. You see right here, is the reason why God is an ass fucking dick. The French one, moi, gets called a coward, which I am not. But he, the most name calling he ever been subjected to is being called a fatass, which is true.

Anyway, the member of the group not in a coma wants to join us just in case his group members don't wake up. I don't care either way, Monsieur Gregory would probably appreciate another nonFrench member in the group.

We entered the room to find the Monsieur Marsh watching some sort of television program. The monitor is a bit peculiar though, it has more than one antenna poking out at the top and there are various cables hooked up to a variety of other machinery in the room. The other members of my group greeted him, but I didn't. I really don't have any business to be here, I'm something like a tag-a-long. No, it's NOT the same as that French stereotype of always fighting on the sidelines. I pulled up one of the cheap hospital chairs by an even cheaper desk and sat down. I pulled out a pack of my cigarettes and my lighter. Leopold saw me and frowned.

"Oh um... You shouldn't be smokin' in here, Christophe..."

I leaned against the chair after putting an unlit cigarette in my mouth, "_Excusez-moi_, I am not zmoking. Does zis look like I am zmoking to you?"

Leopold did that annoying hand knuckle rub he usually does when he's nervous, "N-no, I guess not...sorry."

"One more zing. Do not call me by my christened name my foolish mother gave me."

"But doesn't Gregory call you that?"

I stared firmly, "To you, I am _ze Mole_."

"O-okay..."

Leopold went back to converse with the group. While I didn't interact with them, I keep my eyes and ears opened. Not because the French are cowards who escape at the first sound or sight of danger, but because intel collection is another one of my many specialties.

As I listened to the group, I obtained information that the equipment in the room are unique experimental equipment that reads the dreams of people and outputs what they're dreaming onto a monitor. That explains somewhat why the monitor is showing an image of the fat one donned in that despicable uniform. It figures he would be the one to enjoy something sick that like that and dream about it. Also another nugget of information I gathered is that if someone dies in the dream, they die for real. I'm sure God will get a laugh out of learning what are their causes of death when they see him.

Leopold and Gregory seemed to be concerned about them dying, especially Leopold. Them he suggested something incredibly asinine.

"Um... Could we save them by havin' the Mole infiltrate the flashback and pull 'em out somehow?"

I shook my head, "No, I will not do zomething zo utterly stupeed."

Gregory sighed, "I'm afraid sending a someone into a Nazi operated concentration camp is suicide," He looked at me with a smirk forming on his lips, "...especially a Frenchman."

I stood up from my chair, causing a screeching noise as it suddenly slide against the floor. The loud noise made Leopold flinch.

"I 'ave you know zat I abzolutely despize guard dogs. Ezpecially German fucking Shepards zat every zingle military of ze world zeems to love uzing!"

Monsieur Marsh spoke next, "How do you guys understand him at all?"

Gregory shrugged, "As someone who has worked with him for years, you get accustomed to it. His accent and his French cowardice both."

I clenched my fist and almost bit off the cigarette in my mouth. I yelled out "_Va te faire foutre!_" and stormed out the room.

_**Butter's POV**_

Oh geez, Christophe looks awful sore. What did he hollered out I wonder? It doesn't sound very pleasant at all. I headed towards the door.

"Maybe I should talk to him."

Gregory however walked in front of me, "No, I'll speak with him."

I rubbed my knuckles, "You sure? I mean, you two haven't been gettin' along."

"We'll be fine. I know how to talk to him."

"Well if you say so..."

Gregory left the room. I turned around and took a seat by Kenny's bed. His trademarked hood is pulled down but his head and face is all bandaged up. He kinda looks like one of those mummies on the History Channel. You can still see some of his blonde hair sticking out though. Stan told me that Kenny jumped out the window to force himself into a coma so he can help Eric and Kyle out of the flashback. But it doesn't seem like it's going as planned. I was thinking an expert like Christophe could do something like Kenny was trying to do, but he doesn't seem interested at all. I'm really worried about my friends. I want to help them...

**Location: Auschwitz II - Birkenau (Hospital Barracks)**

_**Kyle's POV **_

I've been sleeping all day yesterday so I couldn't really sleep later that night. I closed my eyes and doze in and out, but I wasn't really doing the whole REM sleeping thing.

I heard the door opened and shut in the middle of the night...well I think it was the middle of the night. I kept my eyes closed and feigned sleep, I didn't want to deal with whomever is in the room...

...

..

.

And of course, this whomever was standing right by my bed, and definitely reeks of Nazi aura. Though, it kind of smells familiar too. This person slipped his hand under my ushanka and stroked my hair. The hand is sort of small, like a kid's.

Wait, a kid?

Whoever this person is, they yanked my ushanka off, felt up my hair some more, and sat at the end of my bed. Eventually they laid down and stopped moving. I heard them snoring lightly. This snore was also very familiar...

I opened my eyes and sat up to see Cartman sleeping at the end of my bed and using my ushanka as a damn pillow. What the fuck? And why was this fatass feeling up my hair?! I grabbed the top of my Jewfro with both hands and blushed while thinking of all sorts of reasons why would he. Most of the reasons were so gay, I refused to acknowledge them.

Pushing the thoughts aside, why was Cartman here? I was about to wake him up but then decided against it. I don't really want a knife in my other arm, fuck that. So I sat there and watch him sleep. How can he sleep with that uniform on? It has to feel uncomfortable with that belt (which sits over his outer shirt and not his pants, talk about German fashion statement) and all that shit he has on it. It even makes me uncomfortable looking at all that. It wouldn't be surprising if he actually has his pistol somewhere on him right now. I cringed thinking about it, so I decided to do something. I scooted closer to him and began undoing his belt. Wait, how the hell do I undo this thing? It's just the circular buckle with the Nazi eagle symbol with a clapse on both sides of it, and both have the leather belt looped in it. How the fuck do I undo this?! This is way different than the normal American belts I'm used to... Belts belong on pants.

Well I give up. With only one arm in fully working order, it's not worth the effort. I turned my attention to my ushanka that his fat head is on top of. Out of all the things in the room, he had to use my ushanka as a damn pillow? Then I remembered him touching my hair. Why was he doing it? Does it look weird? My Flashback Mom had a darker red hair so maybe my hair closer to that...

I gasped and held my head. It's that depressed feeling again. Why the hell does it come up every time I think about my Flashback Parents?! No...it comes up when I remind myself that they are dead. They're not real so why the hell it's affecting me like they are? I pulled my knees to my chest, wrapped my arms on top and laid my head in them. I have to push these feelings away before Cartman wakes up. The last thing I needed was him going-

"Aw, why are you cryin', Jewfag?"

Damn it.

I didn't lift my head off my arms, "Fuck off, I'm not crying."

My head was pulled out of my arms by the fatass. I really wasn't crying, and even if I was, there's no way he could tell with the extremely dim lighting in the room. Cartman snorted and shoved my ushanka back onto my head.

"If you're gonna be a fag and cry about it, you can have the damn thing back."

I pulled down on the dog ear flaps of my ushanka, "You're an asshole."

"Says the one who was tryin' to undo mah belt."

I looked away embarrassingly, "I was trying to see if you had a loaded gun."

"Of course I have a loaded gun, I'm a fuckin' SS."

He threw something out in front of me and I looked down. I jumped backwards when I saw that it was the pistol he said he was carrying. The fuck, he could have gotten me shot or worst! He put it back into his holster.

"Unlike morons you see in action films and in real life, I only turn the safety off if I intend to blast someone's brains. Though..." He eyed me, "...tryin' to undo mah fucking belt is a good enough reason to."

"Okay geez, I'm sorry okay? I'm not comfortable with you sleeping on my bed with a fucking loaded gun on you."

He rolled his eyes, "The fuckin' safety is on, you dumb Jew."

I sighed, "Whatever. Why are you here in the middle of the night?"

"Didn't that asshole SS doctor tell you? I'm assignin' you to your workin' party."

"Dude, what time is it?!"

He pulled up a sleeve to check his watch, "Almost 4 o' clock. Roll call starts in half an hour."

My eyes went wide, "FOUR?!"

He rubbed his ears, "Any louder and you might be able to wake the dead in this room. Anyway c'mon, I'll take you to the sauna to wash up, then take you to your station."

"Dude, it's fucking four in the morning..." Wait, did he say 'sauna'?

He got his cap and placed it back on his head and opened the door, "I'm well fuckin' aware, now hurry your ass up. Fuckin' wastin' mah time."

The fatass left the room. I held my head and shook off any lingering sleepy feelings, then got off the bed and headed to the exit. I flinched when I felt how cold it was outside as I opened the door and stepped out. I kind of want to go back under the sheets where it was slightly warmer. I shut the door and faced Cartman, who was facing away from me and coughing into his sleeve. I placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Hey, dude. Are you okay?"

He cleared his throat before replying, "Yeah, it's nothin'. The cold pisses me off in the mornin'. Follow me."

The cold pisses him off? Don't we kinda live in a pissant mountain town that is forever cast in some sort of permanent winter? Whatever. I followed him further into the camp. I saw various inmates and SS roaming about. Not a whole lot, but enough to notice them. The inmates look so depressed, unsurprisingly. I would be depressed too if I have to wake up four in the morning to get ready for roll call. Fuck, I would probably shoot myself if it wasn't against my religion.

After Cartman spoke with the SS guard on duty, we exited the fenced in area of the hospital section and took a left down the dirt path. We walked past between two red bricked buildings with tall chimneys then eventually took another left. Soon we arrived at a another red brick building, but this one has considerably more windows and chimneys than the previous building we passed.

Cartman walked up to a door and unlocked it, "C'mon, we don't have all mornin'."

"No need to remind me how fat you are."

The fatass pulled me in and tried to throw me on the floor. Luckily I caught myself before my face landed on the concrete floor. Cartman locked the door and turned on the indoor lights. He went to a corner of the room where there were a couple wooden tables and boxes over. He motioned me over while he opened a box and got out a piece of paper and a pen. He turned to me and handed them over.

"Fill this out."

I glanced at it and frowned, "Dude, I can't understand this, it's in German."

He looked at the paper, "You have a problem with German, you fuckin' Jew?"

"Uh yeah, I can't fucking understand German."

The fatass scoffed and set the paper on the table and uncapped the pen. He pointed at a line, "Your last name then first one. Obviously I'm talkin' about your flashback ones. You have one, right?"

I took a few moments to recall, "It's Ezekiel...Ezekiel Bartkiewicz."

Cartman threw the pen at me, "Fuck, this is why I wanted you to fill it out! How the hell am I supposed to spell Ezekiel Barfsandwich?!"

I bent over to pick up the abused pen on the floor, "Hey, I didn't pick my name! Plus, your name isn't exactly easy on the tongue either!"

"At least mah first name is _still _Eric. And it's not ten thousand letters long!" Cartman took the pen from my hands and scribbled on the paper, "You're now Kiel B."

I read his awful handwriting, "Are you trying to make my name Kill Bill or some shit? Gimme that pen!"

I pulled the pen from his fat fingers and added the rest of my flashback last name. I decided to just leave my first name as Kiel since he didn't leave me much room to fix it on paper. Oddly enough, I know how to spell my last name.

"Okay, Cartman, what's the next line say?"

"Born on, and the line beside that is asking when were you born."

"How the hell am I supposed to know?"

"I'll let you in on a little secret... We don't really give a shit when you're birthday is."

"Ugh... Okay um..."

I wrote down 'May 26, 1934'. Dude that would make me super old in real life! But I'm not sure where was I born... I guess I'll go back to that later.

Cartman read the next one with a little difficulty, "I'm not totally sure about the next one. Probably asking what sex position or somethin'."

I read the word he's having issues with, "What does _'Stand' _mean on its own?"

"Stupid, it has a lot of meanings."

I scratched the side of my head with the bottom of the pen, "I think... it's asking for martial status, because the block next to it asks _'Kinder'_, that's German for kids, right?"

"Whatever."

I sighed and put in "single" and "0" for the number of kids. Cartman suddenly took the pen and scribbled out "single" with "_ledig_".

"Okay it wants your last place of residence."

"Well normally I would say South Park, Colorado..." I then noticed him writing 'Ghetto', "What the fuck, dude?!"

He flashed me a smarmy smirk, "Well, 'Kiel', if you have a better answer, let meh know," He read off the next line, "Okay, so next two are religion and nationality. I'm gonna put...stupid Jew in both."

I punched him the shoulder, but not hard or anything. I'm really fed up with this racist prick. He whined in pain and rubbed his shoulder. He took the paper and pen and shoved it on one of his pockets.

"Fuck you, Jewfag! I'll fill the rest in for you, whatever!"

Cartman looked past behind me, presumably at another corner where my next adventure awaits.

"We're goin' down this corridor, come."

I grumbled as I followed the fatass through the corridor. To my left there are ton of windows, probably the same ones I saw earlier. To my right, I see some brick walled structures with entrances or something leading to another room. It was pretty dark so I can't tell what is in those rooms.

At the end of the corridor is a smaller room. From the corner of my eye, I think I spotted all sorts of sharp tools such as razors and scissors. I paled, imagining what sorts of torture went on in this room.

"Hey, Jew."

I turned my attention to Cartman and flinched when I saw him holding a pair of scissors.

"Remember that time when we joined the Blaintology Cult?

"Dude, we mustn't talk about that."

"Psh, whatever, it's not like The Super Best Friends was the highlight of that day!"

Cartman opened and closed the scissors as if testing it, then looked towards my hat... well more like my hair.

"Your faggy Jewfro has to go."

I gripped firmly on the flaps of my ushanka,"So that the fucking Nazis can sell it? Fuck you!"

Cartman glared at me, I glared back. After a short while, he tossed the scissors on the floor.

"These scissors are super crappy anyway. It's worst than usin' left-handed scissors. Let's go."

We moved on to the next room. Above the entrance there is a writing that says "_Untersuchungsraum_". Huh, wonder what that means? There is a small wooden table and a chair off in the corner.

Cartman went over to the chair and sat on it, facing me, "All right, Jewfag, strip."

I hesitated, but eventually raised my fingers to the top button of my coat. Cartman made no effort to give me a little privacy.

"Um... do you mind?"

He rested his elbow on the table and put his head on the palm of his hand. He yawned before answering, "Nope, don't mind at all. Proceed, Jew."

I frowned, my cheeks glowing red. What the fuck, is he going to watch me undress? I turned around so my back is facing him and started to undo my coat. It is proving a bit difficult since my injured arm still hurts like a bitch. I doubt Cartman is going to rewrap it either.

Cartman impatiently whined, "Geez, Kahl, don't be a little pussy and hurry the fuck up. It's not like I haven't seen your damn circumcised dick before!"

"Fuck you, fatass! It's hard to do this with one arm, okay?!"

I heard the sounds of rapid bootsteps and was spun around, now facing Cartman. He flashed me a look I didn't quite catch and began unbuttoning my coat. Before I got the chance to complain, he pulled my coat off and threw it on the table. He grabbed my ushanka and tossed that on top of the coat, then pushed my head down so I'm bending over towards him. He pulled on the bottom of my shirt and yanked it over my head, adding it to the pile of clothes.

"Kick your shoes off."

I did as he asked without thinking much about it. However, I was caught off guard when he immediately pants me as soon as my shoes are off. Now I'm totally nude in front of my on and off nemesis. Who is wearing an SS uniform. I covered my face with my good hand in disbelief.

He placed a bar of soap in my hands (when did he grab a bar of soap?!) and smacked my butt towards the doorway with the word _'brausen' _written at the top, "Hit the showers, you dirty Jew. You have two minutes to shower now since you wasted a lot of time already."

I stepped into a rectangular room about double the size of the room I was just in. Looking up towards the ceiling, there are steel pipes running across everywhere with shower heads dangling down.

I yelped when freezing cold water hit me suddenly. I jumped backwards and away out of the line of cold fire. I wanted to wait for it to warm up but I felt a sharp pain on my back. I cried out and turned around to see Cartman holding his riding crop with disgustingly smug look on his fat face.

"Aaaw is the water too cold for the wittle Jew? Too fuckin' bad. There's no hot water runnin' through these pipes right now so get used to it."

I growled at him, then turned around and stood under the water. I used the anger building up inside me to distract me from the cold water as I soap myself up. The gauze wrap on my arm unraveled and fell down, drenched from the water. I gasped and held my arm as the soapy suds made contact with the wound. This morning sucks so much. So fucking much.

"You know, Kahl. You're lucky you got the entire shower room to yourself right now. Normally these are packed with about a hundred new arrivals from all over Europe."

I let out a shaky breath, "Lucky me..."

Cartman walked closer, but avoiding the water, and aimed his crop towards me.

"Though, knowin' the little filthy Jew slut you are, you probably love it when other Jewish men look at your soft juicy Jew body. Mmmm yeah, I'm sure they'll love to stare at Kahl for he is very..." he traced the tip of his crop along the edge of my cheek and stopped under my chin, tilting my head so he could look at my face, "..._wunderhübsch_."

He swiftly turned around and walked back into the room before I could process what he just said. My mind is just so fucked right now from the cold and the Cartman overexposure.

The water shut off as suddenly as it turned off. Cartman's voice called out to me from the exit end of the shower room.

"C'mon, move your Jew ass! You should be thankful I gave you a full five minutes worth of shower time under that freezin' water. Everyone else gets about a minute."

I gladly headed towards the exit while hugging myself to retain whatever warmth I have left. I was shaking harder than Tweak on his worst days, and that's saying something. I stepped through to the next room and was wrapped in a not so soft towel.

"We're almost done here."

Cartman escorted me down a corridor that is almost the same as the other one. There are windows to my left but the brick walls and entrance aren't present on my right. I shook my head in an attempt to fling the water out while still hugging myself in the towel as I follow him.

We stopped into a room that's a slightly smaller than the first room of this building, but still was huge. He walked towards the left side of the room and pulled out the famed striped pajamas prisoner's outfit from a storage closet. He came back and threw it on the floor.

"Get dressed."

He leaned against a wall and watched me, this time with a riding crop in his hand. Ugh, is he serious? Not wanting to get hit by that stupid thing again, I rubbed myself with the towel to dry up the best I could... which isn't good at all. I winched every time I moved my left arm wrong, it stings so bad. It's been less than 48 Holocaust time hours since he fucking stabbed me. A little bit of blood seeped out from the cut now. Frustrated, I sat on the floor with the towel over my head and shivered from the coldness, intensified from my nudity and dripping wet in icy cold water.

I heard Cartman's footsteps approaching me. I braced myself for the inevitable crop attack, but it never came. My towel was removed from my head and draped over my shoulders and back. He then sat down and held my hips and positioned me so my back was pressed against his body (with a towel separating us so we didn't actually touch). Immediately I felt warmer with his body heat against me. I shivered less, probably less than Tweak levels.

"Gimme your arm, Kahl. The one I stabbed."

I move my left arm towards him and he held it with one hand. With the other hand, he pulled out a handkerchief from one of his shirt pockets and wrapped it around my arm. He was oddly gentle as he did so. The complete opposite of when he inflicted the wound two days ago. Maybe he felt bad he stabbed me? I can't read his expression from here. Suddenly I am reminded of that one time when I got a bad case of carpel tunnel and he massaged Ben-Gay onto my wrist. He was oddly gentle back then too. But then again, I was in so much pain I probably wouldn't be able to tell if he was being rough with the Ben-Gay application.

After he finished the wrap with a knot, I pulled my arm away to inspect it. It's pretty decently wrapped. Guess he learned something at boy scouts after all. I muttered a 'thanks', he responded back with a simple nod. I was about to stand back up when he wrapped his arms around my waist and leaned his head against the back of my neck. My face flushed, what was Cartman doing?

"Dude?"

"..._wunderhübsch_..."

That word again, where does Cartman learn all this German anyway? Or better yet, any other language he seems to conveniently know? He's not poor like Kenny, but I can't picture his poor mom buying Rosetta Stone for all the major languages.

"You're a little Jewslut, y'know, Kahl?"

I blinked, "H-huh?"

He took his arms off my waist and got up. I almost whimpered when the warmth left my body. He took the towel and kicked the prisoner smock at me, then returned to his leaning position against the wall

"Do you like mah strong arms around you, Kahl? Mah big boned body against your back? Me whisperin' tender things in your little Jew ears?" He grinned, "Usually you would go into your little Jew fits well before that point."

"S-shut your fat face, Cartman!"

"You have one minute to put your new cloths on."

Well, it's not much to put on. Just a loose fitting button up striped shirt and pants. Made similar to pajamas but the material sucks, like a potato sack or something. It's easier to put on now that I'm not shaking like a human vibrator. My hair is still wet but it's not as bad as before. I felt something tossed at my bare feet. Looking down I saw my shoes, so I put them back on. I looked around to see where the rest of my cloths are.

"Dude, where's my cloths?"

"You won't need those anymore. They're gonna be disposed of."

I glared at him, "What?! No way, they're mine!"

He pointed his crop towards me, "Jews aren't allowed personal property without proper authorization. You're lucky enough I'm allowin' you to keep your shoes."

I clenched my fist, "Why can't you authorize me to have my cloths then?"

"Because fuckin' kikes don't need them, understood?"

I nearly attacked him for calling me that extremely offensive term. However, I only took a step forward when I remembered back to what happened when I attacked that SS doctor on day one. I backed away holding my injured arm and looked down, away from Cartman.

I answered quietly, "I-I... understand."

He paused, then marched right up in front of me and grabbed my hair. I cried out as he pulled so I was looking at him.

"What was that, Jewfag?"

I tried to think, what's wrong with my answer? Then it occurred to me that he probably wants me to address his rank. I looked straight into his hazel eyes and voiced my response with more confidence.

"I understand, Scharführer Fuhrmann."

Cartman smiled and let go, "See, that wasn't so hard, now was it?"

Actually it was, that rank combined with that damn name is just begging to be a tongue twister.

"Wait here."

Cartman went back into that corridor. A minute or two later he returned with my beloved ushanka and put it on my head.

"You look less of a retard with this anyway, 'Kiel'."

* * *

**Notes from SEGAMew_**

Well, I did it, I redid Chapter 7! I was unhappy with how I did it the first time so I rewrote nearly everything with a little more historical accuracy as humanely possible! Don't worry, all the hot scenes are still there :) Just added substantially more fluff between Cartman and Kyle, making this chapter the longest so far!

Don't worry, I still have the original Chapter 7 saved on my laptop. Maybe I'll upload it separately somewhere or something.

Also, I changed a few things in all the previous chapters so it reads better and the layout of the camp makes more sense. Some scenes were altered slightly so I recommend all of you to re-read Chapters 1-6 if you have previously read them prior to June 23, 2014.

Christophe is an interesting character to write for. By interesting, I mean almost a blank slate. All we know from his movie appearance is that he hates God, guarddogs, and being grounded. And he smokes a lot. So I decided to add more to his personality and have him react negatively to being stereotyped, especially by Gregory. Also, sorry for all you Gregory fans if I portray Gregory as an asshole! He sorta was with his 4.0 grade average and good looks. Gregory was even less to work with. I liked Pip better as the Englishman/Gentleman of South Park. Right-O!

Remember to comment, review, critique, complain, whatever!

**Translation Notes_**

_Excusez-moi - _Excuse me or pardon me.

_Va te faire foutre!_ - Basically "Fuck off!" in French

_Stand _- Status. The form is indeed asking for your martial status.

_Ledig _- Single/Unmarried

_Kinder _- Children

_Untersuchungsraum -_ Examination Room

_Brausen_ - Shower

_Wunderhübsch -_ Wonderfully pretty. Cartman actually says Kyle is _wunderhübsch_ in the Funnybot episode as well :)

**Replies to Reviewers_**

_symphknot - Some form of kyman came! What do you think? :)

_Marty - Kenny and Cartman Super Best Friendship... Maybe there is, maybe there isn't, wait and see ;)

_AriJustAri - Ha I figured it was you! And thanks~

_Guest (ooo a mystery person!) - Maybe my story will upgrade Kyman into an OTP for you bwahaha...

_YetAnotherGirl - Ghetto Kenny makes the best Kenny! He doesn't come off as a hick like his parents are to me =P

_deathNspikes - That Cartman, he's such a little joker! As for how will the Kyman be integrated, it shall be integrated overtime, evolving as the story evolves. A little bit could be interpreted right in this very chapter!


	8. Chapter 8 - Anmeldung

**Important message!**

**Before reading Chapter 8, I urge you to go back and at least read Chapter 7. I wasn't happy with how I originally typed Chapter 7 so I redid 60% of it and ended up adding about 2000 more words or so. I also updated Chapters 1-6 so it reads better, has translation notes, changed a few minor scenes, etc. But at a minimum if you read Chapter 7 before June 23, 2014, please go and re-read it. Thanks!**

**-SEGAMew**

(Yes, redoing the chapters is a primary reason why Chapter 8 is a bit late)

* * *

**Liebend****e ****Rückblende**

**By SEGAMew**

* * *

**Disclaimer: **

South Park and all related characters are property of Trey Parker and Matt Stone, because they are geniuses and I'm not.

Any historical persons that appear in this work of fiction are loosely based of their real life counterpart and possibly portrayed poorly. Reader discretion is advised.

There is no plans to include any OCs/FCs in this fanfiction. So don't worry if you're anti OC/FC. If there are to be any OC/FC, they will be only background characters with probably a few unmemorable lines.

* * *

**Last Time in ****Liebend****e****Rückblende Ch. 7:**

Christophe learns that smoking in a hospital room is unacceptable

Butters learns that Christophe prefers to be called _'ze Mole'_.

Cartman learns that Kyle's flashback name is 'Ezekiel Bartkiewicz'

Kyle learns that Cartman thinks he's '_wunderhübsch,'_ whatever that means.

* * *

**Pairings**: Kyman (Kyle x Cartman), Gregstophe (Gregory x Christophe) and others that will be revealed in later chapters (absolutely no fan pairings)

**Warnings**: M for harsh language and horrendous gratuitous acts of violence. No lemon/smut/stuff like that because I'm horrible at writing such things. There will be mild lime and adult situations however. I mean come on, it's a South Park fanfic!

* * *

**Chapter 8: Anmeldung (Registration)**

* * *

**Location: Hell's Pass Hospital (Men's 2****nd**** floor restroom)**

_**Gregory's POV**_

I brushed my teeth in front of one of the available sinks in the hospital restroom while Christophe stood beside me with a hand resting upon my waist. He's gracing me with a smile that he rarely displays for people outside our circle. Between the fingers of his available hand is a lit cigarette. He usually knows better than to smoke in the loo but he simply can't kick the habit of smoking after our 'sessions'. I spit into the sink and wiped my mouth on a power towel I had on the counter. After drying up, Christophe spun me around to face him and planted his nicotine-laced mouth against my (now former) minty fresh one. That little bugger! We parted shortly thereafter, his free hand stroking the small of my back as he took a drag of his cigarette and exhaling away from me. He rested his hand holding the cigarette upon my shoulder and squeezed lightly.

"Your method of apology iz... most persuazive. I accept your forgiveness, Monsieur Gregory."

I returned his embrace by wrapping my arms around his body, "I'm pleased to hear, Sir Christophe."

"'owever, if you piss me off again, I will make you do more than get on your knees and beg for forgiveness..."

He licked his lips, pushed me against the counter and kissed me again. I moved my hands up and gripped his hair as we have another make out session.

"Hey, guys?"

We froze and looked towards the entrance. DogPoo's head poke through looking concerned about something.

"Okay, I don't care if he's smoking and you're sucking him, but we really should go back and work on the project. Y'know, as a group?"

I gently pushed Christophe away and straightened my cloths, "Hoh hum... Yes, we'll be there."

DogPoo nodded and closed the door. I turned my attention back to Christophe, who is just standing there continuing to smoke with nonchalance. I brought a hand to my mouth and chuckled.

"My Dear Christophe, I'm afraid you're flying low."

"_Qu'est-ce_?" He looked down and blushed. He pulled up his zipper mumbling something under his breath.

**Location: Auschwitz II - Birkenau (Bath House/'Sauna')**

_**Cartman's POV **_

I picked out the smallest prisoner clothes I could find, but it still looks a little too big for the Jew. Serves him right for being tiny and useless! Kyle rolled up his pant legs so he doesn't trip over them like a handicapped person. He rolled up his sleeves too so he could at least see his hands. Normally we gas most kids within an hour of their arrival, but Kyle is something of a special case.

I pointed to a small door in the corner of the room, "The toilet is there if you need to take a crap. You will find out soon enough how... infrequent we allow prisoners to empty their bowels while you're still alive."

Kyle walked towards the toilet room, "Gee, thanks."

While he's doing his business, I went behind one of the desks by the wall and pulled out a small box from a drawer. I checked the time on my watch. 4:37 AM. Well screw morning roll call, I can always induct Kyle into a working group later.

Kyle returned, "Okay, what's next? Do I get branded with my prisoner number or something?"

"A little anxious, are we? And actually, you get tattooed. But if you prefer to be branded like a ginger cow, I can arrange that."

"Well I'll take whichever hurts less."

I smiled, "Both will hurt like a bitch because you are gonna get it on your left forearm."

He held his left arm and shot me one of his usual angry Jew glares, "Are you fucking serious?!"

I moved a chair to the front of the desk, and I took my seat behind it. I opened the box revealing a set of metal stamps and wooden blocks to slide the stamps into. If I were to describe the metal stamps, I would say they look like someone took a bunch of nails, cut off the sharp ends, and super glue the sharp ends to a metal square in the formation of a letter or number, with the pointy end sticking out.

"Sit."

Kyle sat on the chair across from me and watched me put in the metal stamps into the wooden block. I could feel his uneasiness. I love it when he's uneasy. I dipped the sharp ends of the stamp into blue ink.

"Gimme your left arm."

"Can't you do it on my right arm?"

I rolled my eyes, "If there's any reason we can't stamp a person's left arm, they get eliminated. Now gimme your left arm!"

Kyle grumbled under his breath as he halfheartedly put his left arm on the table. I reached over and pulled his hand towards me so I can actually reach his damn arm. He cried out like a fucking girl, I didn't pull that hard! I pulled his sleeve all the way up to his shoulder and told him to hold it. He held his sleeve in place and I grabbed my prepared stamp. ready to mark another prisoner into Auschwitz.

"H-hey wait, is that thing sanitized?"

"What's it matter? Worried about getting someone else's Jew blood on your arm? All Jews have dirty blood. Makes me sick."

Kyle tried to pull his arm away but I held firm to his hand.

"Dude, of course it matters! I don't want fucking AIDs here too!"

I yanked hard on his hand, causing Kyle's torso to hit the edge of the table and cry out in agony. With the speed of Windows 8 booting up, I pressed the sharp end of the stamp into Kyle's upper arm rather than his lower arm. That was the most perfect knot I remember every making, I wasn't gonna fucking undo my work just to tattoo him. Kyle held wherever part of his torso that hit the desk with his right hand and shut his eyes, probably trying to block out the pain. I lifted the stamp and a nice 'K-4738' was imprinted into his arm in dark blue, though a little bit of red is mixing in too. I dipped my thumb into the blue dye and rubbed the dye into the bleeding wound the stamp made. Kyle jerked as I pressed down.

"F-fuck, Cartman! That hurts!"

"Just making extra sure it doesn't rub off. I doubt you like to do a retake."

Satisfied with my work, I grabbed a rag in the box and told Kyle to hold it against his arm. While he did that (after bitching about how dirty the rag looks), I took out his registration card from my pocket and filled out the remaining fields. For his prisoner number in the corner, I put in 'K-4738' and drew a six pointed star beside it, because he's a Jew. I glanced up towards him, he's looking away towards the window. I probably jabbed in the stamp too hard, but Jew needs to be reminded who is in charge around here. He's doing a tiny bit better in keeping his temper in check, but it's not good enough. A thought hit me and I took out my cheat sheet card with a list of colored triangles and what each color meant. I grinned and colored in a pink triangle over the six pointed star. That'll teach him for kneeing me in the nuts two days ago.

I reached into another box from under the desk and took out a cloth strip, a yellow six pointed star, a pink triangle, and some safety pins. I stamped in 'K-4738' onto the white cloth strip with a separate stamp (it's just a normal stamp for cloths) and safety pined the triangle over the star, and pinned it to the left of the cloth.

"Okay, Kahl, walk over here."

When he got close enough, I held onto the front of his shirt and safety pinned the finished cloth strip that we use to ID all prisoners. The Jew looked down then looked at me.

"Why do I have a pink triangle?"

"Because you're a Mr. Hat fan."

"Fuck you, take it off!"

"Too late."

"What do you mean 'too late'?! I'll just take off this safety-"

I squeezed Kyle's lower left arm as he was reaching for his ID strip, causing him to cry like a wimp and tried to pull his arm away.

"Arg, okay okay I won't take off the damn pink triangle!"

"Good, Jew."

I put away the stamp set and other random supplies back under the desk or in the drawers. Kyle was walking around and looking out the window. He was still holding onto the rag against his arm.

"Hey, toss that back, will ya?"

Kyle tossed the rag back to me and rolled his sleeve down. After I put the rag back into a box, I headed towards the exit.

"C'mon, let's get you into roll call. If we're lucky, we can make it to the best part of it."

"What's the best part?"

I opened the exit door and locked it once we're both outside, "Dishing out punishment to rule breakers."

"Of course..."

I eyed him, "Don't wanna be the star, get the fuck out of the spotlight."

We continued down the dirt path past Crematorium IV and V and Camp F (where the hospital barracks are). We passed Camp E which is full of Gypsies (I considered them the European version of hippies). Finally, we stopped in front of the entrance to Camp D. I walked up to the SS Guard on duty with Kyle following close behind me.

"_Guten Morgen_, _Herr __Scharführer_. State your business."

I pointed my thumb towards the Jew behind me, "This one was just dismissed from the hospital and I'm bringing him here."

The SS guard, who looks to be in his lower 20s, looked at Kyle questioningly, "He looks more like he should belong in Camp A or E, or even the Women's Camp."

"Those camps are for pussies, this one is hardco-," I glanced at his pink triangle I momentarily forgot I gave him, "You know what, why the hell are you questioning me? Let us the fuck through or I'll file a report to your superior for preventing me to do my job."

"_Ja, jawohl, Herr __Scharführer."_

The SS guard wrote in his log and granted us passage into Camp E. We didn't have to walk far to see the prisoners all lined up between the two kitchen buildings at attention. Kyle covered his mouth with his right hand looking like he wanted to puke or something. Yeah the prisoners do stink and there's a pile of corpses off to the side that have been dragged away from the ranks (they're not beaten to death, they died overnight I'm sure).

Since most of the SS are fighting the Russians or whatever country wants a piece of Germany, and the fact that prisoners severely outnumber the SS staffed here, we employ a 'Prisoner Functionary' system. Let me explain how that works.

_Lagerältester _(Camp Elder)is the highest position a prisoner can have. They make sure the daily routine is followed to the satisfaction of the SS. They also can make recommendations on who to make a part of the Prisoner Functionary team.

_Blockältester _(Block Elder) is in charge of in individual barrack, also known as a block. Each of these wooden stables full of prisoner is considered a block and each has a Blockältester in charge. They are responsible to make sure no prisoner fucks up.

_Stubenältester _(Barracks Elder)is in charge of cleanliness, clothing, and food. Yeah, sounds like an awesome job.

_Blockschreiber _(Block Scriber) is like the secretary of the block. They keep track of records such as roll call.

Prisoners in the position of those jobs sleep in their respected barracks towards the entrance. Next I will talk about the prisoner jobs that are labor related.

_Oberkapo_ are head Kapos. He oversees all the work detachments.

_Kapo_ are responsible for the work detail (consisting anywhere from 50-100 prisoners) they're in charge of. They march the group to their work area and back to camp. Generally nonJewish criminals are selected to be Kapos since they are the most likely to not mind beating lazy prisoners.

_Lagerkapo _are like normal Kapo except they are in charge of prisoners who don't perform mindless labor in the fields (cobblers, carpenters, tailors, etc).

I think I got all the important prisoner staff positions. I will tell you right now, Kyle is not going to be holding any of these special positions. He's too much of a fag. Oh yeah and an SS noncommissioned officer, a _Rapportführer_, is in charge of several Blockältesters.

Numerous Kapos walked through the ranks taking a head count or beating prisoners into (or out of) ranks. I avoided them as I made my way to the first SS man I saw. This one is a rank below me, an Unterscharführer. Two traits stuck out to me; he has large ears and he has something clearly shaped like a small beer bottle sticking out from his trouser pocket. I approached him and he immediately greeted me.

"_Guten Morgen_, _Herr __Scharführer_."

"Yeah yeah, _hallo_. Rank and position?"

"Unterscharführer Oswald Kaduk, SS-Rapportführer."

I nodded, "Okay, Kaduk. You see this kid here?" I stepped aside to reveal Kyle to him, "He's joining this camp. Put him in whatever block or work detail or whatever you see fit."

"A child? How can I use this child in labor?"

I shrugged, "You're the Rapportführer, assign him to one of your Blockältesters. Or use him as a punching bag, I don't give a crap."

Kaduk squatted and took a good look at Kyle, then stood back up.

"I'll see what work I can find for him."

"Okay kewl, don't damage him too badly," I pinched Kyle's cheek, "Have fun, _Mäuschen._"

Now that my responsibility to Kyle is complete for the time being, I left the area.

**Kyle's POV**

And just like that, the fatass leaves me. Kaduk bend over and tugged the front of my shirt.

"K-4738, when I assign you to a block, get your prisoner tag properly sewn in. This safety pin nonsense is unacceptable."

"Yes, sir..."

A hard slap hit my face and I fell to the ground. I held my cheek and looked up at the SS man. He looks really scary with that glare.

"When you are addressing me, I expect respect. Understood?"

"Yes, um..." I momentarily forgot his rank.

"On your feet, boy!"

I rose back to my feet, only for him to slap me to the ground again. I rubbed my stinging cheek, this guy is pissing me off.

"I'm going to teach you how to respect the superior race just this one. Stand at attention."

I did so. He nodded before continuing.

"When you are speaking to any member of the SS, remove your hat, greet them, and acknowledge their rank. Is that understood?"

I removed my ushanka, trying not to look angry while doing it, "Yes, Unterscharführer."

"Good. Now stand here," He pointed right beside him, "at attention until I give you further instructions."

"Yes, Unterscharführer."

I went and stood where he pointed. I wasn't sure if I should put my ushanka back on so I simply held it in my right hand. It's a good thing I stopped Cartman from cutting my hair off, it's freezing out here! Well it's not as cold as South Park, but when you're wearing cloths thinner than my Terrance and Phillip pajamas, it fucking sucks.

I tried to keep still but well, how can you stop from shivering? Well, it's still dark out so he probably won't noticed.

"_Sterben, Stück Scheiße!_"

I saw Kaduk pushed one of the prisoners, who is basically all skin and bones, onto the ground and stomped on his chest. The victim barely put up any resistance as the SS man relentlessly pound his heel into him. His ribs cracked from the pressure, but unfortunately that doesn't end there. Kaduk lifted his boot over the poor guy's neck and broke it, getting blood all over his boot and the ground. It's almost like something out of a zombie video game, except the Nazi aren't the zombies this time.

I covered my mouth and nose with my right hand and turned away. I may not puke as easily as Stan does, but witnessing that and the smell and everything, it was too much. I heard boot steps coming towards me so I popped back to attention. Kaduk threw a small towel or something at me, which I instinctively caught. He put his bloody boot forward towards me as he took a drink out of his beer bottle.

"Clean the filthy Jew blood off."

"Yes, Unterscharführer..."

I put my ushanka back on and lowered myself to the messy boot. The strong smell of iron attacked my nose, causing me to almost lose my butter sandwich from last night. I swallowed down the sensation and then started wiping down his boot. Suddenly, Kaduk grabbed my ushanka and threw it on the ground. I looked up and he was staring me down angrily.

"You can retrieve your hat after you finished your task."

I didn't reply out of fear I would lash out verbally. I wiped the blood on his boots as fast as I can. For some reason not all of it came off. Eventually I figured out that some of it is old blood from sometime before... This guy must have killed many people in cold blood before. He curb stomped that guy like he was less than an ant.

I want to go home.

* * *

**Notes from SEGAMew_**

And we come to the end of chapter 8. It's a little shorter than normal, but that's because the NEW chapter 7 is longer than normal... So it evens out. If you haven't re-read chapter 7 like I told you all to, you better go back and do it!

Also I made an error all this time when typing the warnings (this has been fixed in all the previous chapters). I like to clarify that while there won't be lemon or smut or very explicit sexual scenes, there will be lime/mild sexual scenes and situations. Yes, involving ten year olds, because you know, it's South Park and that stuff flies anyway. Just a heads up!

**Translation Notes_**

_Qu'est-ce?_ - What?

_Guten Morgen -_ Good morning

_Herr _- Something akin to Mr.

_Mäuschen_ - Little mouse

_sterben, Stück Scheiße!_ - Die, piece of shit!

**Replies to Reviewers_**

_melody - of course you love Kyle naked :p

_Marty - they are aged ten, just like they are in the show. I feel like there are not enough fanfiction out there, especially Holocaust era stuff, that depict the boys as them being elementary school kids. I think having them as ten year olds will bring forth a different perspective as a child prisoner in Auschwitz :)

_Ari - Stan would probably feel awkward and Butters would feel a little bicurious :)

_YetAnotherGirl - I like to imagine Cartman as sexually confused :) Out of the South Park boys, he's the most willing to dress up as a chick and seduce Osama bin Laden!

Cster - Reactions didn't make it to this chapter, but perhaps the next chapter... ;)

_deathNspikes - Knowing Cartman, he probably tricked Kyle into downloading (illegally) Rosetta Stone: The German Edition saying it's for bettering himself and learn another language! And yes, Kyle is a cutie when he's all Metro~

_symphknot - Thanks!


	9. Chapter 9 - Erster Tag

**Liebend****e ****Rückblende**

* * *

**By SEGAMew**

* * *

**Disclaimer: **

South Park and all related characters are property of Trey Parker and Matt Stone, because they are geniuses and I'm not.

Any historical persons that appear in this work of fiction are loosely based on their real life counterpart and possibly portrayed poorly. Reader discretion is advised.

There is no plans to include any OCs/FCs in this fanfiction. So don't worry if you're anti OC/FC. If there are to be any OC/FC, they will be only background characters with probably a few unmemorable lines.

* * *

**Last Time in ****Liebend****e ****Rückblende Ch. 8:**

Christophe learns that Gregory can be most persuasive.

DogPoo learns that Gregory and Christophe are in lesbians with each other.

Cartman learns that Kyle doesn't want AIDs.

Kyle learns that you should take off your hat when speaking to the SS.

* * *

**Pairings**: Kyman (Kyle x Cartman), Gregstophe (Gregory x Christophe) and others that will be revealed in later chapters (absolutely no fan pairings)

**Warnings**: M for harsh language and horrendous gratuitous acts of violence. No lemon/smut/stuff like that because I'm horrible at writing such things. There will be mild lime and adult situations however. I mean come on, it's a South Park fanfic!

* * *

**Chapter : Erster Tag (First Day)**

* * *

**Location: Auschwitz II - Birkenau (Men's Camp D)**

_**Time: Before Sunrise, which is where the last chapter ended**_

_**Kyle's POV **_

"_Blockführers_, report!"

I stood at attention while watching Unterscharführer Kaduk round up the eight Blockführers so they can present their morning muster report. All of them appear to be similar or perhaps more junior ranking than Kaduk. After about thirty minutes of them conducting their report (though it sounds more like idle chit chat to prolong the suffering of the prisoners still standing in ranks at attention), Kaduk called out to me.

"Hey, K-4738, get over here!"

I ran over and stopped beside him, popping back to attention. Kaduk turned his attention to the Blockführers.

"One of you take him to any of the blocks in your sections and make changes to the muster sheet accordingly."

And with that, he walks off, leaving me with the four junior SS. They glanced at me, then continued with their idle chitchat. I'm not sure if I should be happy or annoyed that they're ignoring me. While waiting, my mind wandered off back to that 'bath house' Cartman took me through earlier. We were in this flashback for what, two days? He seemed to know a lot about how things work around here, and a bit of German. Speaking of German, why is it everyone appears to speak primarily English with little sprinkles of their native language? It reminds me of a lot of movies and anime. Clearly the setting is Russia, Europe, China, or the USA, but everyone speaks Japanese (or dubbed in a different language for viewing in a different country). Maybe that's how Cartman's flashbacks works. Oh, there was this one movie I watched on Cartman's Netflix account. It was under his suggestions or something. Movie clearly takes place in Germany but everyone has a British accent, event the Germans! Talk about historical inaccuracies...

Also, now that I thought about it more, Cartman was considerably less of a moron. Yeah, there were times where his knowledge of the inner working of things no one else knew about saved us in some situations, but I'm actually still alive here because of him. It should be of no surprise that he has more control within his own flashback, but how was he able to recreate fake-Auschwitz with such accuracy without being there himself in the early 1940s?

And most of all, why did he keep saying I'm '_wunderhübsch'_? That's not the first time he called me that either. Though, the way he says it in the bath house makes it sound like he wants to eat me or... something.

"Hey, _gör_!"

Gör? What does that -

One of the Blockführers pulled me up on my collar and slapped me. I cried out and rubbed my cheek.

"Look at me when I'm addressing you, fucking brat!"

I stopped rubbing my cheek and looked up towards him, his grip still on my collar. He doesn't looked that angry with me, he looked more like he's trying to scare me.

Heh, my Mom's over nine-thousand times the scary this guy is...

"I'm throwing you into one of my blocks. From now on, you'll be living in Block 19. There, the _Blockältester _will assign you to whatever job he has available. You may be a kid, but you will pull your weight like everyone else."

He dropped me down roughly and motioned me to follow him. We passed through the middle between many rows of stable looking buildings (I guess each of these are blocks). The further down we traveled, the stronger this shitty smelling stench became. Ugh, it smells literally like shit!

We entered into of what I presumed to be Block 19. As soon the Blockführer stepped in, he was immediately greeted by a prisoner wearing a thick long black coat with a white armband on his upper left arm. The word "Blockältester" was stitched on it and "Block 19" hand written below it in smaller letters. The prisoner looked like he's in much better health compared to the others. After a few exchanges, the Blockführer left me alone with this guy. Well not really alone, there are a few prisoners inside the barracks, they look too sick and feeble to be out in the ranks, or are tasked with doing something else. The Blockältester squat down and took a good look at me, eyeing me top to bottom. He looked under my ushanka.

"Your head isn't shaven, why?"

How do I respond to a question like that? I guess I could be honest about it.

"Um... the Scharführer let me keep it."

"A Scharführer, eh?"

He took off my ushanka and combed my hair with his fingers.

"If you don't have any lice or other vermin hiding in your hair, then good," he returned my ushanka, "I prefer it when people look like people, with hair and all."

He went to the corner and returned with a broom. He handed me it and gestured outside the barracks.

"Sweep outside our barracks and the surrounding ones. Keep yourself busy and don't think about escaping. I will send someone for you before the lunch bell rings. Behave yourself and there will be no trouble, got it?"

"Yes, sir."

I went outside with the large broom. The sun was starting to break across the horizon, so it's probably around six or something in the morning. When is lunchtime anyway? And don't I get any breakfast? And shit, it really smells like shit out here! I commence sweeping the ground. I winced when pain erupted in my injured left arm. Painkillers would be good right about now. I adjusted my grip on the handle so most of the work is being done on my right hand while my left acted as additional support. This feels better, but still hurts. I stopped sweeping momentarily and reached into my left sleeve. I felt Cartman's handkerchief wrapped around my wound, tightly I might add. It's a good thing too, otherwise I'll be a bleeding mess. I recalled back to the bath house. He is an anti-sematic asshole, but maybe perhaps he genuinely cares about me? He always announces or express his desire to kill me, and attempted to various times in South Park. But oddly, he has the full legal power here to do me away here, yet doesn't. He is so incredibly mentally insane, it's giving me a headache just thinking about it.

I resumed my pointless sweeping the dirt, less of a headache. Why would you need to sweep dirt and gravel around anyway? I observed my surroundings while boringly push the broom along the ground. There's really no grass growing here or the neighboring camp sections. There was the occasional weed and stuff but no full on lawn grass. It really adds to the lifeless grim look of the extermination camp. Large groups of prisoners marched out in various directions outside the barb wired fence. Some prisoners stayed behind to load corpses onto carts. I noticed there are a couple of prisoners were holding sticks and wearing similar armbands as the Blockältester, except their armbands are a light yellow and have "KAPO" on them. There are a few SS walking around, but the Kapo greatly outnumber them. This bugs me a little. If these prisoners outnumber the SS, why the hell they don't fight back? I don't get it at all.

**Location: Auschwitz II - Birkenau (Crematorium II)**

_**Time: Morning sometime before sunrise**_

_**Kenny's POV **_

So, here's what's going down. The Sonderkommando work in 12-hour shifts, a night time and a day time shift. Roll call is once a day, usually before supper time. There isn't really a specific time, just whenever the SS likes to hold one. From what the dudes of this kommando tells me, the SS generally don't interact with us a whole lot outside of the actual duty of disposing the Jews. This means during your 'leisure time', which was basically your twelve hours of off time, you're left alone and can do anything you want as long as you don't go outside the electric barb wire fence boundary. There was an SS guard on duty outside the entrances to all the sections of the camp so moving about isn't really easy.

Compared to the other prisoners in camp though, I think the laxness the SS gave the Sonderkommando is pretty legit.

The dudes told me that the Sonderkommando can wear normal cloths, we just need to have a red cross painted on the back. I guess it's to tell us apart from everyone else, since we're so special or something. In the morning, this Italian dude named Shlomo told me to pick out something from the cloths pile 'from yesterday'. These cloths all look used but dirty cloths never really bothered me. Anything was better than ugly striped PJs. I digged into the pile and picked out a thick orange woolen coat. It's all super long and too large and stuff for a kid like me, but Shlomo says he can tailor it to fit me better. Possibly cut some of the fabric off and turn it into a hood too. That'll be super sweet!

While he was working on my second hand coat, I went off to take a walk around the building. There wasn't that much to look at within the confines of the barbed wired fence though. I can see a soccer field in the distance but it's off in another section of camp. All these sections are surrounded by electric charged fences. The electric bill must be insane, yikes! Well, what I seen of the ovens in the crematorium, they run off of coal power, so at least they save money in that department.

I looked on towards the rest of the camp. On my left side of the train tracks, I saw some sort of band playing. Interestingly, all the band members are women. They don't sound half bad, but why does a concentration camp need a band? To my right of the train tracks, was what seems to be another camp section to which I came to the brilliant conclusion that this must be a ladies camp. Why? Because that's all I see, chicks. Even the SS staff in this section are fine looking ladies. I wouldn't mind living out some of my fantasies with a couple of these lovelies.

One of the crematorium SS spotted me not really doing anything productive, so he pulled me aside. The dude was probably checking me out because I'm quite the blonde-haired blue-eyed catch because he didn't yell at me or anything. He actually asked me (well, ordered me) to assist him in picking up some cargo from one of the camp sections to be brought here. It doesn't take a rocket scientist to figure out that 'cargo' means 'corpses' in Nazi-speak. He mentioned we should eat first too, which was sweet because I'm starving!

We exited out the gate for the crematorium section and traveled along the dirt road. We passed some circular brick things to my left, I have no idea what kind of buildings were they nor do I care. To my right I saw something that resembled a soccer field. Heh, I guess soccer was a serious sport back in the days too. In the same section as the field are a bunch of barracks that looks just like all the other barracks in this camp. Nothing too special.

You all must be tired of me describing everything so I'll cut to the chase. We stopped by Crematorium V and grabbed some grub. The SS told me that I can take some leftovers back to Crematorium II where I was staying, so I wrapped some potato slices, a slice of buttered bread, and half a sausage in a handkerchief I got from the cloths pile earlier and stuffed it in my pocket. After this we went to what the SS refers to as the Men's Camp and picked up a cart of corpses. Ah yes, the familiar stench of death. The SS told me he has something to do at the ramp and instructed me to follow a different route back towards Crematorium II. This dirt path is between the Men's Camp and what appears to be a camp for Gypsies. They all look sorta like Esmeralda from Hunchback of Notre Dame with dark hair and skin. At the end of the path I should take a right and follow the train tracks back to Crematorium II.

While walking down the path before hitting the tracks, I spotted a familiar green hat in the corner of my eye. I set the cart down and rushed over, stopping right before the barbed fence. Electrocution was not my favorite way to die. I whispered loudly to him.

"Yo, dude!"

He didn't noticed me, he kept on sweeping the ground sluggishly. I whispered louder.

"Hey, Kyle!"

Still didn't notice me. Geez, he must be deep in thought or something. I went over to the corpse cart and broke off one of stiff's index finger (thank you, rigor mortis!). I hurried back to the fence and threw the finger over. Kyle jumped and panicked when it bounced off his shoulder. He looked up and around trying to locate the source of the finger, then noticed me. I smiled and wave.

"Sup, dude? Tried ta get yer attention and figured the best way is ta send ya a poke!"

Kyle hesitantly walked up to me, stopped right before the fence. He looked behind him, then back to me. He spoke in a worried tone, but I think he's happy to see me.

"Kenny? Dude, are you for... real?"

I was taken aback by his question, "Of course, dude! Why wouldn't I be?"

Kyle put an index finger to his lips, "Shhhh! Not so loud... How'd you get here?"

"Oh, I jumped outta yer hospital room window."

Kyle rubbed a hand over his face and sighed, "Fuck, dude..."

"It's cool man, was worried 'bout ya. I'm sure Stan would jump too if he-"

I stopped mid-sentence when I noticed Kyle swaying and falling towards me, towards the fence! Quickly, I reached out between the rows of barb and held Kyle's shoulders with both hands, keeping him away from the electric charged fence. I got a little zap when one of my forearms hit a barb but it's nothing I couldn't handle.

"Kyle, dude, ya okay?"

Kyle slowly opened his eyes halfway and summoned the strength to push himself off of my hands and fell down to the ground. He rubbed his forehead and took a deep breath before finally answering.

"Hungry..."

"Oh man, yer a diabetic here too, yah?" I digged into my pocket and took out my valuable food roll and unveiled its contents to my buddy, "Here, take anything ya like."

Kyle eyed the food, "You... sure?"

"Yah, it's cool, man. I got the hook up. Actually..." I wrapped the food roll back up and held it to him between the barbed wire, "You can have it all. Just in case, ya know?"

He nodded and accepted the food roll. He unwrapped it and placed the half eaten sausage into the bread slice, then rolled the bread up and ate it like pigs in the blanket. He stuffed the rest of the roll into his own pocket. It didn't take him long to finish the sausage roll. He stood back up and smiled at me.

"Thanks, Kenny. I owe ya one."

I held up a hand, "It's no big deal. I don't need a lot of food ta operate on. If I really need ta, I can eat my hand!"

I laughed quietly. Kyle didn't seem to be in the mood for jokes though as his smile disappeared.

"I'm just kidding! I hafta go now though. See ya 'round, man."

"Uh, wait..."

"Huh?"

"Have... you seen Cartman?"

"Yeah, the fatass clobbered me with a shovel a few days ago, then sent me ta work in this special corpse handling team. I haven't seen him since. Why?"

He rubbed his arm, "It's nothing... nevermind. Bye, Kenny, and thanks."

"Yeah, see ya."

Kyle returned to his pointless sweeping and I went back to delivering the corpses.

_**Kyle's POV **_

I'm relieved knowing that Kenny was not in a dangerous position in the camp like I am. It's also nice to know that someone from South Park who's less volatile than Cartman was here with me. I would be lying though if I said I was completely worried-free. This was an extermination camp after all, anything can happen at a moment's notice.

A bell or whistle or something rang. The prisoners stopped what their doing and walked towards the end of the camp where roll call took place this morning. Since most of the people are outside the camp section doing hard labor, the amount of people was significantly smaller, representing only those left behind within the barb wired confines. I'm not sure if I should fall into ranks as well. I was told that someone would come get me since it's my first day and all. I didn't have to wait long, Block 19's Blockältester himself approached me. He took my broom and handed me an empty bowl. Actually, it's more like a large metal cup with a handle.

"K-4738, you will receive and consume all your meals in this container. Guard it well, I won't give you another one if you lose possession of it. Come."

I followed him to the end of the camp where everyone was already gathered in ranks and holding the same kind of cup I am. Well, most of them are. A few of them aren't holding any container at all. Wait, does that mean they don't get to eat? That fucking sucks! My Blockältester didn't have me fall into ranks, but instructed me to stand beside him at attention. The Kapo are performing a head count while other staff prisoners record anything worth noting. My stomach churned when I saw a prisoner holding a dead guy up in ranks. Holy shit, the dead has to be present too?! Roll call was shorter this time. A large long cart wheeled through the gate entrance with several pots on top and stopped in front of the ranks. Before the prisoners in the rank receive their lunchtime ration, my Blockältester called me out of attention and walked me up to the foot cart. There I received my delicious watery as hell soup with maybe two pieces of unidentified vegetable floating in it. Yum...

The Blockältester told me that lunchtime is one hour. The next time the bell rings, I am to report back inside Block 19 for further instructions. After he got his rations, he left me alone to eat in peace. I picked a shady spot against one of the close by barracks and sat down. I lifted the cup to my lips and took a sip. Blah, it tastes plain, it barely has any flavor! A little salt would make it improve so much. I held my cup in my lap and watched the other prisoners get their soup. Some drank their's slowly, savoring every tasteless drop, others drank it down like their life depended on it. Then of course, there's the group who won't receive their lunch because they don't have their cup with them. How do they lose their cups? Dropped it somewhere while working? I mean it's a freaking large metal cup!

Maybe soup will taste better the hungrier I am. I took another sip of my soup. Nope, still pretty bland. I have to drink all of it though, I don't want to pass out into an electric barb wired fence again. As I took my third sip, I heard someone creeping towards me. I lowered my cup and turned to see a scrawny kid wearing the same striped cloths I am, but in a much larger size than mine. He doesn't look older than ten or eleven. In his hand was a few blades of grass and he's chewing on them. His exhausted gaze fixated on my soup. I looked down at my soup, then back to him.

"Um... Hi."

He gasped, almost dropping his precious grass. As if he suddenly realized what he was doing, he scrambled to his feet and darted off. Wow, he must be really shy. I got up and chased after him. It didn't take me long to find him just on the other side of the barracks, chewing on his grass. I approached him slowly like I'm approaching a baby bunny and whispered.

"Hi."

He flinched and looked at me fearfully. Man, am I that scary? Maybe a friendly conversation will ease him.

"Hey, you shouldn't be eating that grass. It could be drenched in pesticide and stuff."

He swallowed a bit of grass and continued chewing down te blade, "I-i-it's o-okay... I've b-been eating it... s-since t-two days ago..."

My jaw dropped, "Two days? Why?!"

He cowered, "P-please don't y-yell... t-they'll hear..."

"Sorry... why were you eating grass for two days?"

"E-everyone else does... Those who... lost t-t-their food bowls..."

Note to self: hide bowl under ushanka at all times.

"I see..." I held out my half eaten soup to him, "You can have my soup, I'm not really hungry today."

The kid's eyes went wide, "N-no, it's yours... I lost mine..."

"It's okay, I'm just sharing my soup with you. I'm not giving you my cup."

The kid nodded and took my cup with trembling hands. He lifted it to his lips and drank it down hungrily. After he finished, he handed the cup to me.

"T-thank you... you're so nice..."

I smiled, "Your welcome. What's your name?"

"Um..." He looked town towards his prisoner number on his shirt.

"No, I want your real name. I'll tell you mine first to start off. I'm Ezekiel Bartkiewicz."

He boy cheered up, "Oh y-you're a Polish Jew too? I'm Wojciech Łasica."

I scratched the back of my head, "Uh yeah, I guess so."

We chit chatted for a little bit. Actually I did most of the chitchat, Wojciech listed. He's likely still hungry since he's tugging on a bit of grass that's struggling to grow out of the crevice of the barracks. I sighed.

"Could you please stop tugging the grass?"

He blinked and withdrew his hand, "S-sorry..."

"Listen, how about we meet up here every time they hand out the food. I can share mine with you. How does that sound?"

"I-I have nothing to offer in r-return..."

"You can help me by not eating the grass."

Geez, the kid had to think about it before agreeing to stop eating the grass! I'm not sure the grass would taste that much better than the soup.

We kept each other company until the bell rang, signaling the end of lunch. We said our goodbyes and parted ways until the next time we meet.

* * *

**Notes from SEGAMew_**

Been a while since I undated, huh? Was busy and stuff. Also had to do a lot more research. I was also typing bits of future chapters. I was doing lots of things other than actually typing chapter 9, shame on me! Not too much action going on in this chapter, still a lot of exposition bs with a little Kyle and Kenny thrown in there. Another thing is that 'Wojciech Łasica' is a character I made up, so don't go Googling him or something =P

Also, only 3 reviews for last chapter in the two weeks I haven't updated? Was it that boring? :(

**Review Replies_**

_Marty: Yeah the Nazi Zombies is mostly referencing other games besides The Stick of Truth :) Makes sense for the boys to be playing other games and not games based on themselves... Or maybe it does make sense to play a game about themselves...

Glad you like my redid chapters :) Hurrah for more accuracy!

_Symphnot: After two weeks and a day, it has been updated!

_deathNspikes: For now, it appears that Kyle is just a dirt sweeper... But expect some conflict in the next chapter~

**Translation Notes_**

_Sonderkommando _- Team of Jewish prisoners whose main purpose is to cremate corpses. They aren't usually allowed to mingle with the general prisoner population, but their living conditions are substantially better.

_Wunderhübsch _- Wonderfully pretty.

_Blockführer_ - Block Leader. An SS in charge of the prisoner blocks/barracks. They usually take care of the role call, work details, and ration distribution (by take care, I mean order the kapos to do such for them).

_Blockältester_ - Block Elder. A staff prisoner in charge of their block.

_Gör_ - Brat.

Kapo - Prisoners selected to do various jobs in the place of SS. Think of them as Cartman-styled hall monitors.


End file.
